


(I’ll Be) The Only Thing Between You and the Stars at Night

by mokuyoubi



Series: Star Trek 'Verse [1]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Gym Class Heroes, Hush Sound, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, The Academy Is..., The Cab
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Star Trek AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 67,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/pseuds/mokuyoubi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete likes to be the Admiral of the Fleet in his free time, the <i>Cobra</i> is after <i>The Academy</i>, the <i>Helena</i> is after the <i>Cobra</i>, and Brendon gets caught in the middle, leaving it up to Spencer, Jon and Ryan to come to his rescue.  Oh yeah.  Star Trek AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I’ll Be) The Only Thing Between You and the Stars at Night

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](http://moku-youbi.livejournal.com/5361.html#cutid1<p>) is a primer, if you want to see what the different species look like, however, NO PREVIOUS KNOWLEDGE OF STAR TREK NECESSARY.

A

Sometimes, Spencer mused, Ryan just needed someone to make him stop. It wasn’t enough that he had to be the _good_ son (Spencer’s mother had said pointedly to him, in that way she had, when Ryan wasn’t even biologically hers, and yet), and take over the jewellery shop so Spencer’s parents could retire to Kendra Valley. It wasn’t enough that Ryan was the vice-president of the station’s activities committee. It wasn’t enough that Ryan had decided that the station’s news media was extremely biased and therefore started his own weekly news broadcast, which had become immensely popular and was demanding more and more of his time. 

No, because then Ryan had to go and tell Leeta that no, it wasn’t a problem at all, he’d be more than happy to help her draw up a list of complaints for the little strike she was planning. 

If Ryan wasn’t so completely oblivious to everything around him, Spencer would think he was doing it just to impress a pretty girl, but Leeta was so obviously taken and Ryan hadn’t even blinked when she’d cosied up to him in her little dabo costume, so Spencer figured it just had something to do with solidarity among war orphans. 

Or, Ryan was fucking insane. Because seriously? He was going to kill himself between his actual paying job and all the extracurricular activities he was juggling, not to mention personal favours. 

Which is why Spencer had put his foot down after he got done with his double-shift, and dragged Ryan away from his computer. 

Ryan might have put up a hell of a fight at the beginning, but he’d gotten over it pretty well. They’d chosen one of the less romantic, yet still remarkably scenic spots on the Holana River and Spencer had packed some honest-to-prophet, organically grown food (that had cost him a pretty portion of his salary, to be sure) and a moonlight picnic was apparently just the thing to get Ryan to chill the hell out. 

It had been a while since Spencer had been to the Holana, and maybe it was simply that absence had made the heart grow fonder, but it was beautiful. Far from the larger cities, there wasn’t a spot of light that didn’t come from the sky above, but what came was clear and bright, casting a green glow over the smooth surface of the river. 

Ryan finished off the last of the wine, but Spencer could tell just by looking at him that he was still working inside his head—maybe rewording some phrase for Leeta, or planning a new design for the shop, or trying to figure out whom he’d get to provide the entertainment at the Blessing Festival next month. 

“You need to take a break,” Spencer said. 

Ryan blinked at him. “I thought that was what I was doing right now.” 

Spencer sighed. Ryan was probably the most impossible person in the galaxy, despite his mother’s protestations that he, Spencer, already claimed that title. “I mean a real break. A vacation. With all the extra hours I’ve been working, I’ve got a lot of time off coming up. You could close down the shop for a couple of weeks. If we went at the beginning of the month, you wouldn’t miss any activities…”

“And where would we go?” Ryan asked. He’d sat up and his shoulders were tense. He hugged his knees to his chest and stared across the river at something Spencer couldn’t see. 

“Well, this place isn’t so bad,” Spencer said. Ryan snorted. “Hey, wouldn’t it be nice to go home for a little while?” 

“Home,” Ryan echoed. Spencer knew it had been a poorly chosen way to phrase it as soon as the words left his mouth, but there was no taking it back, so he just held his breath and waited. 

“I don’t have a home, Spencer,” Ryan said at last and dropped his legs. He stretched out next to Spencer, legs facing the opposite direction so their heads were together. Ryan looked at the sky. After a moment, Spencer followed his gaze. 

They lay there for what felt like ages, the only sound the distant music of insects and the water rushing by. He hadn’t seen the stars from this perspective in such a long time that they seemed almost foreign. 

Spencer tried to imagine a youth like the ones he heard children on the station mention—trading stories about the shapes in the stars, making plans to someday live among them. He tried to imagine a youth where the stars weren’t this remarkable source of dread, where looking up at the sky didn’t make something in his chest hurt. 

When they left the holosuite, the bar was dark and empty. “Are you going to, like, lose your job for breaking us in here?” Ryan asked while Spencer fiddled with the control panel to unlock the door to the Promenade. 

“Nah, Quark owed me one for looking the other way about his little under-the-table deal with this Romulan.” Spencer gave Ryan a little eyebrow waggle to show him he was still the same Spencer Ryan knew and loved, even if he wore a uniform that might suggest otherwise. 

Instead of heading towards the lifts to take them to their quarters, Ryan turned to the Promenade proper. “I’ve got some things I have to take care of at the shop,” Ryan said vaguely, when Spencer tried to redirect him. 

Spencer watched him go, feeling helpless and sick with it. Wiley Ferengi trying to bypass station security—whatever, handled. Cardassians casting aspersions on his ancestry—so totally done. Just insulted the mothers of a roomful of rowdy, drunken Klingons—bring it on. Sad, disconsolate Ryan, and Spencer was utterly defeated. 

For a long time he couldn’t get to sleep and so he just stared up at his window. Maybe Ryan’s home on Bajor’s moon was literally gone, but sometimes Spencer thought that he too was without a home. Maybe it wasn’t even a question. Maybe Spencer knew Bajor wasn’t his home, not like a home should be. 

As much as it would benefit Ryan, he wasn’t the only one who needed to get away. Spencer didn’t hate his life here like Ryan did, but it could get repetitive. Maybe they could get out of the system for a while. With little else to spend credits on than the occasional trip to the holodeck and non-replicated food, Spencer might be able to afford a shuttle to a nearby system. 

He fell asleep still thinking about it, and dreamt about how his life might have been different if he’d been born on a Federation planet, how he and Ryan could have grown up to be whatever they wanted then—maybe gone to the Academy, joined Starfleet and explored the galaxy. How incredible would it be to live on a spacecraft that _moved_ instead of hovering over a lonely, desolate planet? How amazing would it be to see a new solar system every week, and watch a hundred different suns rise over a hundred different planets? 

Then he woke up and the bulkheads were the same grey as his carpet and his comforter and he put on the same uniform he did everyday, clipped on his earring even though he couldn’t remember why it was supposed to mean so much to him, and went to work. 

B

So maybe it wasn’t the transport Admiral Urie had envisioned for his son (the _Enterprise-D_ , no doubt), but the _U.S.S. Albion_ was no slouch, in Brendon’s opinion. The only thing that had kept him in his quarters instead of exploring the twenty decks that the _Albion_ had to offer was his father’s stern warning to behave himself and not do anything to embarrass the Urie name. 

He’d been one of the youngest cadets admitted to Starfleet Academy, something his parents both liked to brag about and hold against Brendon when he wasn’t progressing as quickly as they would have liked. Yet despite their complaints, here he was, after three years. Finally, he was Ensign Urie, and he was away from Earth and that stifling home environment. 

His first assignment hadn’t really garnered a lot of approval, however. Apparently Deep Space 9 didn’t live up to the standards set by his older siblings. It didn’t, in his parents’ eyes, provide a lot of opportunity for growth and learning. 

Brendon saw it a little differently. Deep Space 9 was an exciting place to be. With the discovery of the wormhole, Bajor and DS9 had become major trading and diplomatic hubs, not to mention the fact that living there meant seeing and hearing about all the exploratory missions into the Gamma Quadrant. If he were lucky, maybe he’d get a chance to go through the wormhole himself. 

He’d joined Starfleet because that was what was expected of him, and he’d gone into the command track because his parents didn’t leave him with much of a choice. He’d chosen a second track as a scientist because that was what really interested him, and maybe that was the biggest problem his parents had with the whole thing—he was still on the command track, but the uniform that had come with his posting aboard DS9 was green, indicative of the science track. He was still getting used to his new uniform, examining himself in the mirror, fingering the new, single round pip on his collar. 

“Ensign!” 

Brendon was startled out of his reverie by Lieutenant Peaks. She smirked a little when he snapped to immediate attention. “Ready to go?” 

From the view screen of the shuttle, Brendon was afforded a full view of the station. The docking ring was full which meant the _Albion_ couldn’t have delivered him even if they hadn’t been redirected to a nearby dispute on the border of the Badlands. 

Brendon wanted to go on about just how ready he was, but years of disapproving glares from his father made him clamp his lips shut on the excited babble. Peaks was nice, but she wasn’t that nice, and the last thing he needed was word getting back to his father about what a spaz he’d been. Instead, he shouldered his bag and stepped onto the transporter pad. He resisted the urge to bounce on the balls of his feet. 

Operations was buzzing with activity when he arrived on the transporter pad. As he stepped down from the plinth, he was greeted by the Trill woman Brendon took to be his new direct superior, Lieutenant Jazdia Dax. She had a smile on her pretty face and stepped forward to shake his hand. 

“Lieutenant,” Brendon said, and maybe he sounded a little awed. He’d never met a Trill with a symbiont before. She didn’t look any different from any other Trill, and she was much younger than he’d expected. 

Ever since he’d received his posting, he’d been exchanging exciting waves with Dax about her current projects and what he hoped to study when he came aboard. He felt like he’d already learned so much from here, and they’d only been communicating for a little over a month. 

“Ensign Urie,” Dax said, “I’m so excited to finally meet you.” 

“Me too,” Brendon bubbled, before he could stop himself. “I mean, me, I’m excited to meet you, not that I’m excited that you’re excited to meet me, though that’s cool, too. Um.” He bit his lip and shut up. 

Dax laughed. “Understood. I know your assignment doesn’t officially start for another couple days, but I thought you might be interested in a tour?” There was an upward lilt to her voice and Brendon nodded eagerly. “And the Commander would like to welcome you aboard.” 

Brendon felt a fluttering of nerves in his stomach at the prospect. He’d been at the top of his class, and well liked by his professors and superiors in Red Squad. But they’d all known his parents, and he’d always wondered how much of their approval had to do with him and how much had to do with them. 

Professor Larkin had warned Brendon that Commander Sisko wasn’t the sort to be swayed by an impressive military lineage. Brendon didn’t want Sisko to like him because Sisko had liked his parents, but he _did_ want Sisko to like him. 

The command office was on the upper level, and Commander Sisko was a large, intimidating man who greeted Brendon with reserve. Brendon was careful not to make the fool of himself that he had in front of Dax; somehow, he didn’t think Sisko would approve. 

Dax had to leave him after showing him around Ops, and passed him off to Ensign Dorios who finished his tour of the station. They went through the central core first where Brendon was introduced to Doctor Bashir in the infirmary and several Bajorans in the security office. 

One of the officers was busy arguing with a Klingon, and that was what had caught Brendon’s attention, because who in his right mind picked a fight with a Klingon? And then Brendon got a good look at the guy, and thought to himself he might have to stop by the security office more often. 

He was Bajoran, though his ridges were more delicate and subtle than most. Above his astonishingly bright blue eyes he had severe brows that made Brendon wonder if maybe he was mixed with Romulan or Vulcan blood. His hair was longer than allowed by Starfleet regulation, falling just past his chin, and the Bajoran uniform he wore showed of a slender, curvy figure. 

It wasn’t fair that the Starfleet uniform tended to make people look awkward and bloated. Too bad he wasn’t born Bajoran. But at least it meant he’d be afforded some nice views around the station. 

The Promenade was like something out of a dream—he’d heard that Quark’s operated not by Starfleet’s standards, but by Bajoran ones, which meant they got away with a lot more. There were the sounds of dabo and the scent of various intergalactic cuisines drifting from the bar. 

All up and down the three levels, people of all species were shopping and dining. These weren’t the neat, orderly, regulated shops of San Francisco. It was noisy, chaotic and beautiful. Brendon instantly thought of it as home and couldn’t wait to get out of his uniform and come back when he wasn’t acting as a representative of Starfleet. 

They went next to the docking ring and Brendon made himself pay attention to everything Ensign Dorios was telling him. He wasn’t officially on duty, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to learn everything he could. He wanted to be promoted on his merit alone—wanted to prove himself to his parents at last. 

The tour ended on the habitat ring. Dorios punched in the entry code and they stepped in together. “You can change the lock, of course,” she told him. 

She pulled a face as Brendon looked around. “I know the quarters aren’t much around here; Cardassian design.” She shrugged. 

“They’re bigger than the ones I had on the _Albion,_ ” Brendon reasoned. And he didn’t have to share them with anyone, which was a big plus after three years of quad dorms at the Academy and sleeping in a row of bunks ten deep with the Red Squad. 

Maybe it wasn’t as nice as his room back at home, with a breathtaking view of the Golden Gate bridge, but the bonus of living on DS9 was that his parents were a good two weeks away at top speed. 

“Well, you can feel free to redecorate them however you want—there are some nice shops on the Promenade,” Dorios said. 

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to get settled in. I’m sure I’ll see you around. A lot of the time, us junior offices get together on the holodeck and take turns playing sports from our home worlds.” She smiled and wiggled her brows. “My turn’s coming up. They aren’t going to know what to do with themselves when I introduce them to Karo-Net.” 

Brendon knew a lot about Bolian politics and history, and he’d paid attention in the mandatory Starfleet sex education course, so he knew all about Bolian mating rituals and plural marriages, and he even knew enough to be glad that his name wasn’t Frederick, because it was a name remarkably close to an offensive word in the Bolian language. However, he didn’t know anything about the sports played on Bolarus IX, and he was intrigued. 

Dorios left after arranging to meet him at the end of his first shift and Brendon took a little while to settle into his new rooms. Peaks had beamed most of his belongings directly to his quarters and they were waiting for him in the centre of the room. He’d wanted to pack more, but his mother had gone behind him and taken out much that he’d first put in. 

As it was, he was left mostly with the clothing he couldn’t bear to lose. It had taken several years of research to find the proper patterns and earn enough credits to synthesize fabrics in the right textures. Through trial and error Brendon had taught himself to sew. His parents weren’t very keen on his sense of fashion and disallowed him the use of their tailor. Despite all the obstacles, Brendon had eventually built up the wardrobe he’d always wanted, and he knew he had no hope of finding anything to suit his liking in the depths of space. 

He put up some pictures of his friends and family on the grey dress and hung a couple posters on the grey wall. He tossed a bright purple and blue throw over his grey sofa. The colour scheme was seriously depressing. The Cardassians were the most depressing species in the galaxy. The room needed some serious colour seriously quickly. 

Brendon changed before heading out; it wasn’t that he didn’t like his uniform, because it was comfortable enough, but it wasn’t all that flattering. But after donning a t-shirt and sliding into his favourite pair of skinny jeans (an endless source of embarrassment for his mother was the fact that her son was wearing jeans designed for a girl, but it wasn’t his fault that most of the shops he’d found had a lot more women’s clothing than men’s when it came to 21st century fashion and anyway, he looked good in them), Brendon felt a little more comfortable in his own skin. His uniform was going to take some getting used to. 

On his way out of his quarters, Brendon checked his reflection in the mirror. His peach shirt was a spot of colour in the otherwise drab room. He mussed his hair a little, out of its perfect Starfleet order, and grinned at himself. _Promenade, here I come_. 

There was an awesome shop on the first level, where Brendon bought a bright blue, down comforter, several patterned pillows, rugs and curtains. Then he visited Garek’s tailoring business, but was, as he’d expected, remarkably unimpressed by the offerings; probably equally unimpressed was Garek by Brendon’s outfit. If he was going to purchase any new clothing, it wasn’t going to be there. 

By the time he made it down the entire first and second levels, and down one side of the third level, most of the businesses were closing for the evening. There were still at least twelve shops he hadn’t visited, but he would have plenty of time for exploring them. 

A jewellery shop tucked in the corner caught his eye in particular. Gems set in latinum, gold and silver sparkled in the windows. A man, presumably the owner, was locking the front door and drawing down the gate, and if he was going to be honest, Brendon might have admitted that perhaps the man was the one who’d drawn Brendon’s attention, not the jewellery. 

He was Bajoran, but he was not dressed in the typical fashion worn by most of his species that Brendon had seen. He seemed to have embraced the fashion of 22nd century Betazoids. He wore loose, flowing pants and a ruffled button-down shirt, both in black, but had a multi-coloured scarf around his neck that made Brendon think of the tropical birds of Earth’s jungles. 

His light brown hair was long enough that it fell into his eyes and mostly obscured the distinguishing nasal ridges that marked his species, and it had been styled to almost completely cover his earring. It was almost as if he was embarrassed of being Bajoran, or something, eschewing or hiding those things that denoted his heritage. 

Something about him was intriguing to Brendon, maybe the fact that he wasn’t a crazy fashion victim like ninety-eight percent of the people he’d seen so far on the station. Or maybe it was the sad look he had, and no one was supposed to be sad, right? Not when the area was mostly at peace (for once), and Bajor was successfully rebuilding and the Gamma Quadrant was this amazing source for commerce. 

The man hurried toward the lift, arms clutched around a stack of pads, which he was trying to juggle along with a beverage cup, while reading the topmost pad, paying little attention to his surroundings. He ran into a couple people and almost lost all of his pads more than once before he disappeared from Brendon’s view. And for some reason, it made Brendon smile. 

Two hot Bajorans in one day. Brendon had never considered himself more attracted to one species than another, but maybe Bajor just bred their men ridiculously good-looking. He’d only known a few Bajorans on Earth, mostly older—professors or shopkeepers, and predominately female. Earth didn’t know what it was missing, apparently. 

Though the shops had closed, the crowd on the Promenade wasn’t thinning out. Live music spilled forth from Quark’s and Brendon’s stomach growled, reminding him that the last thing he’d had to eat was a ration bar on the shuttle that morning. 

Quark’s had the same unfinished look to it as the rest of the station, but it was dressed up in sparkling metals, bright tapestries and a lot of mood lighting, and Brendon decided he liked it at once. It was nothing like the tidy little bar he’d used to visit with his friends on Earth. 

By some bit of luck, Brendon arrived at the bar just as someone was leaving her seat and as he moved forward to snag the stool, another guy moved toward it. “Sorry,” he said, and gestured for Brendon to take it. 

“No,” Brendon argued, “go ahead. I don’t need it.” 

The guy smiled; it was a nice look on him, a gentle wry quirk of his lips that looked self-deprecating and really charming. And okay, maybe Brendon was just really, really horny, because it was ridiculous how turned on he’d got by the last three hot guys he’d seen. 

“I’ve spent the past several months on a cramped little ship; standing is nice,” the guy said. 

Brendon vacillated and was saved from being rude and taking the seat, and being annoying and insisting that the guy take it, when another customer got up from the stool beside it. Brendon and the guy shared a look and took the seats. 

“You with a transport ship? Or did you come from the Gamma Quadrant?” The guy was wearing civilian clothing and his hair was long in the front, falling into his eyes, non-regulation style. His general appearance led Brendon to assume that the guy wasn’t with any military crew. 

“The crew are explorers. Ostensibly.” 

“Ostensibly?” Brendon asked, amused and curious. 

The guy shrugged. “They picked me up at Taros V. They needed someone to help with some repairs and maintenance in their engine room and I sorta just go from ship to ship as needed and I was ready to get out of the Taros system, anyway. They said they were explorers, but in six months they didn’t seem to do a lot of exploring.” 

“What did they do?” Brendon asked. 

“Went through their impressive collection of fine—and sometimes not so fine—alien wines and liquors, engaged in some questionably legal activities on the outer worlds, played some music that got progressively better the more drunk they were, and, I’m pretty sure, engaged in orgies in the Captain’s quarters, but I was operating on a strict don’t ask, don’t tell policy.” 

Brendon stared at him with wide eyes. “That sounds like the best ship ever.” 

“Well…yeah,” the guy agreed. “But I figured after six months I had to either get away or resign myself to a lifetime of debauchery, and well, I’m young, you know. I shouldn’t resign myself to anything just yet. Besides, the Captain is a little, well…” He made a gesture with his hands, perhaps indicative of something, but Brendon didn’t know what. 

“I’m Jon, by the way,” the guy added. 

“Brendon,” he said, and offered a hand to shake. “So you’re not going to travel with them any more?” 

“I thought I’d hang out on the station for a while. I was able to get a room by helping some Starfleet guy rig the atmospheric controls on section eight of the outer deck, and apparently I can earn a few credits with some repairs on the Promenade.” 

Brendon had never considered doing anything with his life other than going into Starfleet, because since he’d been born that was what he was told he would do. But Jon seemed to do okay for himself. Brendon wondered what it was be like to explore the galaxy without following Starfleet regulations (which could be somewhat stifling at times), just hopping from system to system, going wherever the universe took him. 

“You have, like, the most awesome sounding life ever,” Brendon told him, unashamed by the naked admiration in his voice. Because, well, it was true. And it was worth it when Jon smiled at him. Yeah, he was seriously horny, ‘cause, whoa. 

“It’s okay,” Jon allowed. “Some ships are better than others. Like, there was this one time I was stuck with a bunch of Vulcan scientists on this little survey ship and,” he paused, but his expression was very expressive. 

Brendon was seriously taken in. He spent the next hour alternating between breathless amazement and breathless laughter at Jon’s stories, and by then the bar was almost full to the bursting. 

“So, what do you guys do for fun around here?” Jon asked, sipping his drink. 

“This isn’t fun?” Brendon asked. He was still entranced by Quark’s. Patrons kept jostling against him and the dabo games were getting progressively louder, but this still had to be the best time he’d ever had in a bar. And, okay, maybe a great deal of that had to do with Jon. 

“Too many Starfleet officers around,” Jon muttered into his drink. 

Brendon coloured. “Er.” 

Jon gave him a look. “You’re Starfleet?” Brendon nodded sheepishly. “Shit, now you’re not going to believe me now when I say I don’t have a problem with Starfleet, but seriously, I don’t. Just, get a bunch of you guys together and it doesn’t really equal wacky fun.” 

Brendon couldn’t necessarily argue with that. Sure the guys in the Academy knew how to have a good time, but it was like, as soon as they graduated this switch flipped and everyone had to be serious all the time. Every officer in Quark’s was off-duty, but at least half of them were still in uniform. Probably even more. And it was unnecessary, but it was like they didn’t know how to be anything other than Starfleet officers. Brendon didn’t want to become like that. 

“Well, anyway, I’m new here too. I don’t know what there is to do that’s fun. Oh! But I saw there was a bowling alley on the third floor of the Promenade,” Brendon said, remembering seeing the sign and thinking it would be fun to come back when he wasn’t alone, maybe with Dorios and her friends. 

“Bowling alley? There’s honest to god a bowling alley on this thing?” Jon asked, arching a brow. “Do they have drinks there?” 

“They probably have a replicator,” Brendon said with a shrug. 

“Good enough for me,” Jon said. He signalled the girl behind the counter and when he shifted, Brendon saw, at a table over his shoulder, both the Bajoran men he’d noticed earlier. 

“Hey, hang on a second,” Brendon said as the girl came over to take their payment. He tipped his head toward the table and Jon followed his line of sight, lips curving a little when he saw the men. 

Γ

“Have you met the new Ensign yet?” Ryan heard Lieutenant Dax ask. 

“Ensign Dorios brought him by the infirmary earlier.” Bashir shrugged. “Why?” 

Dax got a dreamy look on her face. “He’s just too adorable, don’t you think? And so promising. You know, just the other day we had a fascinating communication regarding an unusual incident near Omicron Ceti III.” 

Bashir made a face. “He’s a little young for you, isn’t he?” 

“Don’t be bitter, Julian,” Dax said, and patted his hand. 

“Just what we need,” Ryan muttered under his breath, “another Starfleet officer.” 

Spencer didn’t look too concerned about it. Spencer was happy pretending that Deep Space 9 was still sovereign Bajoran territory, even with Sisko lording over everyone. Spencer was happy working under Odo, pretending that Odo didn’t just do whatever Sisko wanted. Spencer wasn’t even very concerned about all the ridiculous talk of Sisko being the Bajoran Emissary. 

Sometimes Ryan wished he’d been born earlier, that he’d been around when the Cardassian occupation was in full force. Maybe then he could have grown up learning important things from the resistance, like how to pilot or repair or maintain a ship. Instead, he was the damaged little kid who’d lost his parents and now had to be coddled by the provisional government and it made him feel useless. 

If he had any skills, he could join the Maquis, fight the Cardassians, and have nothing to do with Starfleet. As it was, he was left watching people he’d admired in the resistance becoming complacent with Starfleet’s interference. Like they just forgot when Bajor had asked Starfleet for help and Starfleet had refused and now, now that the Cardassians had already left, now when Bajor possessed a wormhole, now Starfleet was happy to sweep in and run the show and reap all the benefits. 

“I’m going to get you another drink,” Spencer said. 

“I’ve got a lot of work, Spence,” Ryan said, and suppressed the urge to sigh. He knew Spencer meant well, trying to get him to go out more, but Ryan had too much on his plate right now to sit in Quark’s and listen to the endless chattering of the Starfleet officers. In fact, Ryan purposefully looked for more things with which to occupy his time in order to avoid the very situation in which he now found himself. 

Leeta caught his eye as she wove her way through the crowd toward the dabo wheel and stopped by their table with a drink for each of them. “From the guy at the bar,” she said, and tipped her head in that direction. “I had to bring them over, because, I know you said you’re too busy to see anyone right now, but Ryan, he’s _cute_.” 

Spencer leaned around Leeta to get a better look and made an appreciative face and Ryan was curious, alright, but he _was_ too busy to see anyone, and he wasn’t going to encourage this guy by looking over there. He pushed the drink away and arched a brow at Leeta. Spencer sighed. 

Leeta put her hands on her hips. “Ross Ryan, at twenty-two you are the most miserable old geezer I’ve ever met.” She gave him an exasperated look and went back on her way to her job. 

“Wow, I didn’t know pants could get that tight,” Spencer said, still, apparently, examining the guy. 

“Stop staring at him,” Ryan snapped. “You’re going to give him the wrong impression.” 

“He bought drinks for the both of us. And if it’s the impression that while my best friend is apparently dead from the waist down, I would be more than interested in keeping him company for a while, then I think I’m giving him the _right_ impression,” Spencer countered. 

The humour in his voice made Ryan relax a little. It meant the guy was attractive but Spencer wasn’t _actually_ considering sleeping with him. And really, it shouldn’t have been any business of Ryan’s at all if Spencer wanted to sleep with the guy, but he was a little protective of Spencer. 

“Oh, hey, he’s coming over, and he’s got a friend.” Spencer made a face that suggested his friend wasn’t bad looking, either. “Be civil, will you,” Spencer admonished. Ryan made an indignant sound. He was the very picture of civility. 

The taller one had to have been the one who bought them the drinks because, yeah those were very tight pants. And, wow. Ryan had never seen that material before, but he definitely liked it. He had dazzling smile that almost rivalled the magnificence of a Spencer smile. The shorter guy had a lazy look about him and was dressed in loose, casual shades of cream that reminded Ryan of Andorian sleepwear. 

“Not a fan of synthale?” the taller one asked, gesturing to Ryan’s untouched drink. 

“Not when it comes from strangers,” Ryan said, and he’d meant to be standoffish, to let his tone say, unequivocally that he was not interested. Instead, his tone ended up being coy and playful. 

“Well, in that case, my name is Brendon, and this is Jon, and we’re pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

He offered his hand to Spencer first, who took it with a soft smirk. “Smith Spencer,” he said, then, with a nod towards Ryan, “Ross Ryan.” 

Jon’s brow furrowed a little. “Those don’t sound like any Bajoran names I’ve ever heard before.” 

Ryan knew it wasn’t meant to be insulting so he stamped down on the urge to say something caustic. He was saved from having to say anything at all by Spencer. “Well, our parents were really interested in other cultures.” 

“So,” Brendon said, and took one of the empty seats at the table even though he _hadn’t been invited_ , and pushed Ryan’s drink back toward him. “We’re not strangers anymore.” 

Against his will, Ryan felt the corner of his mouth quirking in a small smile. “I hardly think that an introduction suddenly makes us friends.” 

Brendon’s eyes got really, really wide. “Oh, but it totally does. Because, see, I just met Jon and he’s already, like, the best friend I’ve ever had, because he is really just too awesome.” He shared a smile with Jon and Ryan thought _oh_ , and wondered why the guys were over here bothering him and Spencer when they were obviously into each other. 

“So, yeah, that’s how it works,” Brendon said. “Drink your synthale.” He nudged the glass even closer. 

Ryan stared at him in disbelief, then at Jon, whose shrug seemed to say, “What can you do,” then to Spencer, who was struggling with not laughing out loud. Outnumbered and slightly fazed, he took the glass and put it to his lips, sipping. Brendon approved, if his growing smile was any indication. 

“So, you’re new to the station?” Spencer asked, because was that ever obvious. If Brendon had been here any length of time, Ryan was pretty sure he would have noticed. 

“Just arrived today,” he said cheerfully. Jon nodded his agreement. 

“Not that I’m not a big fan of this scene, because one can never go wrong with strong alcohol and barely dressed dabo girls,” Jon said, “but we were going to check out the bowling alley.” 

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed, “but one on one isn’t very exciting.” 

“So, you guys wanna be our partners?” Jon asked, and yeah, Ryan wasn’t imagining the suggestiveness of that question _at all._ Spencer blushed. Like, no one made Spencer blush. Ryan had even lost that ability by the time Spencer was sixteen. 

“Actually,” Ryan said, and was going to excuse himself when Spencer kicked him hard in the shin. 

“Actually,” Spencer said quickly, “we’ve never been, before.” He twirled the straw in his drink and looked at Jon and Brendon from under his lashes. “Is it hard?” 

He was _flirting_. Ryan felt his throat clench like he wanted to swallow but couldn’t. He took a drink and didn’t feel any better. 

Brendon smirked and Jon bit his lip and they were flirting right back. “We’ll go easy on ya,” Jon said, and was everything he said just layered with suggestion? 

So that was how Ryan found himself in the bowling alley he’d only ever passed by before. Brendon said it looked just like the reconstructed ones on Earth, and Ryan was just going to take his word for it. The interior was dimly lit and vaguely smoky. There was an arcade and several pool tables along the far wall, as well as a bar and a selection of shoes and balls in squares on the wall. 

They picked out their equipment and Jon took care of securing them a lane. He used latinum, which told Ryan he probably wasn’t with Starfleet, which made him relax a little. He hadn’t thought either of them was anyway, what with the lack of uniforms, but still. 

Several other people were playing in the first six lanes, but Jon had got them a lane at the very end, far from the crowd and the distant noises of the arcade. Brendon had replicated a great deal of Earth snacks, most of which was actually pretty good. Then he’d got them their first round of drinks from the replicator, but those had gone though pretty quickly, and Spencer had volunteered to get the second round and when that was finished, Ryan knew he’d look like a jerk if he didn’t, so he got the third round. 

Ryan wasn’t sure what round they were on anymore, but it hardly mattered. None of them were very good at bowling. Jon had played it a couple of times on a holodeck and Brendon had only ever played casually and they knew the rules, but that didn’t mean they could play. Mostly everyone was trying to just keep the ball on the lane and Ryan had started laughing along when his ball, inevitably, ended up in the gutter. 

And, okay, so Jon flirted equally shamelessly with Ryan, Brendon and Spencer. Ryan figured he just wasn’t supposed to take it seriously and dismissed it, and then he got what Brendon meant about Jon because, yeah, he was awesome. He had all these terrific stories about travelling around the galaxy—stories filled with crazy hijinks and cases of cultural misunderstandings that led to high comedy. 

After a while Ryan decided he’d just sit out of the game, because his ball was pretty much resigned to the gutter. Then Brendon followed in suit because he said his arm was getting sore from all the swinging. Spencer was determined to figure this game out, though, and Jon was happy to oblige him (even though his score was only marginally better), using it as an excuse to get close up behind Spencer, guiding his arm through the roll of the ball. 

Brendon took a seat by Ryan, who was watching Spencer and Jon with great amusement, and maybe the slightest twinge of jealousy. He redirected his attention to Brendon who was leaning rather close and chewing his gum loudly, occasionally blowing bubbles. “So, you have a jewellery shop, right? Here on the Promenade?” 

Ryan’s brow furrowed. He didn’t feel very drunk, but he didn’t remember saying as much. “Yes,” he answered slowly. 

“I saw you earlier, when you were closing. Some of those designs in the window were really cool. Do you make them yourself?” Brendon asked. 

“Oh. Well, some of them. I mean, the rings and necklaces and bracelets and such. But the majority of my people prefer traditional designs for their earrings,” Ryan explained. He didn’t really like talking about his work with people who weren’t Bajoran, because most people didn’t understand the importance of it in Bajoran culture. 

Brendon was smiling, though. He reached out and flicked back Ryan’s hair and Ryan felt a shiver go through him when Brendon’s finger traced the chain between his earring and his cuff. “I like this,” Brendon said. 

“I…some like more personalised or individual designs,” Ryan said, reaching up to adjust his cuff and knocking Brendon’s hand away in the process. 

“What _D’jarra_ does that indicate?” Brendon asked, leaning even closer to look at the design. 

“D— _D’jarra_?” Ryan repeated. He couldn’t believe how bold this Human was, nor that he knew what a _D’jarra_ was and that it was indicated by his earring. “I—you know the _D’jarra_ is obsolete,” he finished at last, with a scowl. 

Brendon was undeterred. He even smirked. “Yeah, but you made this earring, right?” Ryan nodded hesitantly. “So which caste?” 

Ryan sighed. “You’re sort of a jerk, you know?” Brendon nodded and snapped his gum. Ryan didn’t know why, but he smiled. “ _Ih’valla_.” Brendon looked speculative. “That’s what caste I am…was…would be. _Ih’valla_. Spencer too.” 

“Yeah? I guess that explains why you make earrings,” Brendon said. Ryan refused to be surprised that Brendon knew what the individual castes were. 

“Actually,” he said, and cleared his throat, “Spencer’s family were jewellers and metallurgists; I’ve only studied since the end of the Occupation. My family were bards. My grandfather taught me the belaklavion before he died. But there is little place for music in the life of the modern Bajoran, outside of religious ceremony.” 

Brendon had a serious look on his face, probably the first one Ryan had seen on him all night. He propped his chin in his hand and leaned even closer. “You don’t want to be involved in the religious ceremony?” He sounded honestly curious, and maybe a little confused. 

Ryan didn’t blame him; if Brendon knew enough about Bajorans to know about their castes, he had to know about the importance of religion to most Bajorans. “You know, despite what you might think, introductions and a few drinks do not mean I know you well enough to answer such personal questions.” He meant the words to sting, but maybe he’d had too much to drink, because he leaned in close to Brendon when he said it, and it came out sounding inviting. 

“Huh,” Brendon said and snapped his gum again. “Guess we’ll just have to spend a lot more time together, then.” 

Brendon and Jon walked them back to Ryan’s room and then ended up staying and drinking more. Brendon challenged Spencer to a game of Jokarian chess, only their version involved a lot of drinking and far less strategy than most. It made it more like a spectator sport than usual. 

Then Ryan’s attention was taken when Jon began asking him questions even more personal than the ones Brendon had asked and Ryan found himself answering them. Found himself leaning closer and closer to Jon until his head was on Jon’s shoulder, and then he didn’t move, because it was really comfortable. 

Across the room Ryan could see his desk, piled high with pads that needed to be read, full of communications that needed responses, needed his thumbprint. But Jon put his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, and the longer they talked the lower it slipped, til his hand was soft and firm in the curve of Ryan’s waist, and Ryan thought, _it all can wait._

Later, after Jon and Brendon had left, Spencer gave Ryan a questioning look. “You and Jon were looking a little cosy,” he said, but he didn’t sound upset about it. 

Only, Ryan had been thinking the same thing about Spencer and Jon when they were bowling. “You too.” 

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed. He had a serious look on his face, but he hugged Ryan and kissed his cheek. Spencer had hugged and kissed him a thousand times, but it felt different this time, made something in his stomach clench and go hot. “I want you to be happy,” Spencer said, and he left. 

Ryan thought of the way he’d leaned into Brendon, the way Jon’s hand fit in the curve of Ryan’s waist, the way Spencer’s lips had felt on his cheek and he suddenly had no idea what would make him happy. In fact, all he could figure was that his current desires might lead to absolute misery…

But he also knew that if Brendon and Jon invited them out again, he was still going to say yes. 

Δ

When Ryan locked up the storefront for the evening, Jon was waiting outside, leaning on the railing around the Promenade. “Hey. Brendon’s getting Spencer. We’re supposed to meet at the Celestial Café.” 

Ryan looked wary. “I have a lot of work to do.” Jon nodded, tonguing the inside of his cheek. “Yes, there’s a festival next week, and I have to finish up an article for my next news broadcast.” 

“I spoke to Spencer on his lunch break,” Jon said. “He warned me you’d try this. You have to eat anyway; might as well be with us.” 

Ryan’s eyes narrowed, but he said, “I didn’t say no.” 

“Yeah, well, just to be sure,” Jon said, and before Ryan could make a move to stop him, he stole the pile of pads in Ryan’s hand. Ryan made a sound of protest, an adorable expression of disbelief on his face. 

“You’ll get them back after dinner,” Jon promised. Ryan opened his mouth to protest and Jon tapped his finger to Ryan’s lips. “Don’t bother arguing. I’ll carry you, if I have to.” 

Ryan crossed his now empty arms over his chest. “You’re way shorter than I am.” 

“Yeah, but you’re like, two pounds.” He smirked and Ryan sighed, dropped his arms, and walked with him toward the lift. 

Spencer and Brendon had already snagged a nice booth in the back corner of the café and they were sitting remarkably close to one another. Brendon was whispering something in Spencer’s ear, even though there was no one near enough to hear them, and Spencer had a small, secret smile on his lips. Jon thought they looked really nice together. 

“Do we get to know secrets?” he asked, as he and Ryan slipped into the booth. 

“Later,” Brendon said, and fluttered his lashes in what he probably thought was a seductive way. It was actually more humorous, but Jon still thought he was pretty cute. 

“So, what’s good here?” Jon asked, looking at the foreign symbols on the menu. Few restaurants in the universe printed their menus in his language. In fact, few places anywhere in the universe used his language. Luckily the universal translators pretty much took care of that, but just in case he’d learned Earth basic and Vulcan. He’d also picked up a fair amount of Andorian, Bolian and Klingon throughout his travels, but he’d only ever met Bajorans briefly. 

“You going to trust us to tell you what to order?” Spencer asked teasingly. 

“I put myself in your hands,” Jon teased back. 

Spencer went easy on him. Jon wasn’t exactly sure what it was that Spencer ordered, but it looked good and tasted even better. Bajoran cuisine was as good as Brendon had insisted it would be. 

Ryan lightened up after he’d had a warm cup of tea and once his food arrived. He’d even engaged Brendon in a conversation about the differences between the opera of Earth and Qo’noS. Brendon insisted that the Klingon was not melodic enough, and Ryan argued that a lot of Earth’s operas were in German, which was a fairly unmelodic language. 

Jon didn’t know much about either of them, but watching them was amusing enough, as was watching Spencer, who kept trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. Spencer’s smile was the secret to the universe, or something. Jon figured that even if he hadn’t planned on staying DS9 very long, Spencer’s smile could have convinced him otherwise. Or Brendon’s dorky laughter. Or the way Ryan kind of leaned into Jon’s side while focusing all his attention on his argument with Brendon. 

“I think my position of best friend might be usurped,” Spencer told him out of the corner of his mouth. Jon arched a brow. “I’m not that big on Klingon opera. Or Human opera, for that matter, and he’s always looking for someone to talk about it with him.” Jon didn’t think Ryan was looking for a new best friend in Brendon, but then again, Ryan and Spencer didn’t strike him as ‘just friends’, so he didn’t mention as much out loud. 

Dinner hour had come and the restaurant was filling up. The waiter kept shooting pointed looks at their empty plates, as if to suggest they move on. Jon was just about to suggest they head to Quark’s or back to one of their rooms when he heard his name. 

“Jon! Johnny Walker, I was afraid we’d lost you!” William threw his arms around Jon’s shoulders. “You weren’t trying to run away, were you?” 

“William, I _told_ you I was going to be staying on DS9,” Jon said. He smiled a fond, exasperated smile. 

William rolled his eyes. “That was before you saw it,” he said, with a vague wave of his hand. “I understand if you’ve changed your mind. You don’t have to be embarrassed; you don’t even have to admit you were wrong.” 

“I wasn’t wrong,” Jon said easily. 

“Beautiful, so come on, party in the holosuite,” William said. His arms moved from Jon’s shoulders to wrap around his arm and he tugged. Jon let himself be jerked around, but not out of the booth. 

William looked at Ryan, Spencer and Brendon with a searching expression. “You can all come, too.” 

“Really?” Brendon said. 

“They do have amazing parties,” Jon said sidelong to Brendon. 

“Who are they?” Spencer asked. He was looking at William curiously. 

“Oh, my old crew,” Jon explained dismissively. 

Spencer’s eyes widened. “The ones from that story about the grade school on Betelgeuse?” 

William gave him a toothy grin. “The very ones,” he purred. “I see news of our exploits travels quickly. But did you hear the one about the head shop and the Deltan?” 

Ryan leaned forward with interest and Brendon looked like he might die with anticipation. William wiggled his fingers in beckoning. “Come little children, I’ll tell you a tale.” 

The party was in one of the sleazier holodecks above a Benzite bar. There were no Starfleet uniforms in the sea of bodies in the bar, Jon noted with approval. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Brendon he didn’t dislike Starfleet, but it was true that they totally killed a party. 

Inside the holodeck, someone had programmed a scenario that looked rather like something out of the ridiculous Human movies Sisky and the Butcher were always watching. Jon still couldn’t figure that out. None of the crew of _The Academy_ had ever been to Earth; in fact, according to William and Siska (and, okay, Jon wasn’t sure how much of what they said could be believed), none of the crew was even from this part of the galaxy. 

“Yo, JWalk!” Chiz was weaving his way across the lawn full of drunken, passed out partygoers, his fists full of beers. Jon vaguely wondered how many of the people were real and how many were holograms. Either way, he wouldn’t be surprised. 

Chiz passed out the beers to Brendon, Spencer and Ryan, who took them and looked at them like they didn’t know what to do with them. “It’s an Earth drink,” Jon explained. “Most people don’t drink it anymore, because it’s way stronger than synthesised stuff.” 

Brendon shrugged, took a sip and made a face. William laughed and smacked him hard on the back, making Brendon choke. “Your friends are a hoot,” William commented, and wandered off towards the house calling, “Toooooo-neeeeee.” 

“It grows on you,” Jon told Brendon sympathetically, and tried not to laugh at the way Spencer was holding the bottle at arm’s length like it might actually, literally start to grow. 

The Butcher came streaking by on a scooter. “Pool in the back,” he called over his shoulder. 

“Pool?” Brendon perked up visibly and even took another cautious sip of his beer. He didn’t choke this time, but he still looked repulsed. Ryan, taking his lead, took a sip and shrugged. Spencer did not look convinced. 

“This is Michael Guy Chislett,” Jon said, slinging a companionable arm around Chiz. “But you can just call him Chiz or Chizzy, or Michael Guy. Come on inside and I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Brendon looked crest-fallen. 

“And then we can go swimming,” he added. Brendon’s smile out-shone the moon. 

E

So, Brendon had pretty much known Jon was awesome from the first time he met him, but this party sealed the deal. Well, first there was William. Brendon had never seen a Catullan other than in pictures and he was really quite stunning, his soft lavender hair falling around his shoulders, his dark eyes a nice contrast to his complexion. Plus he had stories that rivalled the hilarity of Jon’s, and certainly surpassed Jon’s in depravity. 

Chislett and Carden were kind of quiet, but Brendon was too busy staring at Carden in fascination to actually hold a conversation with him, because, okay, he’d never even heard of the species Carden claimed to be. Both species Carden claimed to be—something about dying and being reanimated, which sounded like something out of a bad horror novel, except Carden didn’t seem like a zombie—he wasn’t gnawing on anyone or randomly demanding brains, and he seemed to speak pretty coherently when he did speak, so, yeah. He did have this really pale skin and these deep blue and purple spots along his cheekbones and around his forehead and up his neck. 

Chislett said he was from a telepathic species known as the Mari, and Brendon knew better than to ask a telepath to prove their abilities. So even though Chislett didn’t look superficially different from a Human, Brendon didn’t argue it. It could totally be true. 

Tony, who Brendon had assumed was the Captain until Jon set him straight, looked like a Vulcan at first glance, but he was a comedic genius, and when Brendon got a good look he noticed the ridges of Tony’s ears were more intricate than a Vulcan’s. He was the ship’s navigator and pilot, and, he explained with a mysterious look, the acting Captain when William was away. Brendon was burning with curiosity to ask why William went away, but then Jon dragged him along to meet the others. 

Brendon hadn’t thought there could be anything cooler than Carden, and then he properly met the Butcher. He’d thought the Butcher was just shimmering earlier because of being wet and under the moonlight, but it turned out his skin was actually bronze and glittery, like some sort of precious metal. Every time he moved, the light caught his skin in new ways, making it sparkle. It was made even nicer by the fantastic collection of tattoos curling up his back, over his chest and down his arms. 

His boyfriend, Siska, was equally cool, with a neat cranial ridge that was mostly hidden under the single section of long, curly hair on his otherwise close shorn head, that fell over his forehead. They were both really weird, but endlessly amusing. 

Brendon was a science officer and so he was really intrigued by all these new species and even though he’d really wanted to go swimming, he ended up having a long conversation with most of the crew about their home planets and their physiologies and their cultures. William got bored of it pretty quickly and Carden wandered off and the Butcher mostly just watched Siska talk, but Siska and Chiz were happy to answer every question Brendon asked. 

“If you think we’re strange, you should see the Cobra,” the Butcher said mysteriously. 

Tony appeared out of nowhere and gave him a sharp look. “I know you didn’t just say what I think you just said.” 

“Whatever, I’m not afraid of Cobra. I’m ready for it. Bring it,” the Butcher countered. 

“What’s the Co—” Brendon started to ask, but Siska shivered. 

“No, man, don’t say it, dude. The Butcher, he’s far braver than you or me, who dare not speak the name of the depraved one.” 

“Oookay,” Brendon said, and then he got distracted when someone came by with a tray of delicious looking finger food and forgot about the Cobra altogether by the time his stomach was full. 

He was too busy being amazed by everything around him. For instance, another thing, in addition to the variety of unfamiliar species, that was a major source of curiosity for Brendon was the fact that everyone’s names, with the possible exception of the Butcher (though Brendon was willing to bet that wasn’t his real name), were not only very Human, but seemed to be based in Earth Standard English. And they all seemed really well versed on all things Human—in some cases more so than Brendon. 

Like, the house for one thing—it looked like something straight out of the movies his friends watched back home—the movies from before WWIII, when Humans had thought they were at the height of their potential and were toying with dangerous science and dangerous weapons, and how would anyone that wasn’t from Earth know about that stuff? Not everyone on _Earth_ paid a lot of attention to it. 

So the house, it was this amazing, sprawling two storey thing with a basement, extensive gardens and a pool bigger than Operations (which Brendon was going to swim in, seriously, once he finished talking to Siska and Chiz). 

And then there was the music. Brendon wasn’t going to complain about the music, because he recognised a lot of it, and he _loved_ it. It was from the same era on Earth as the house. It thumped loudly from speakers in every room and on the lawn; the bass a pleasant, dull beat in the background that made Brendon feel happily numb. 

There was a pretty good mix going on—with older and newer music, too, and samplings from other planets, but it definitely kept coming back to the Earth stuff, which…Brendon’s friends had always shook their heads when Brendon played it, because some people on Earth liked classical music, and some people liked jazz, or opera, and things like that, but _no one_ listened to the rock ‘n roll music of the late 20th century. Except, apparently, random aliens from the Gamma Quadrant. 

Then there were the clothes. And, okay, maybe Brendon wasn’t one to judge, but he was _from_ Earth. He was a _Human._ Yet somehow William had perfected the look of a rock star straight out of the late 1990s, in tight jeans and a tight printed tee and a scarf tied around his knee that he somehow pulled off, like, awesomely (but then, Brendon had just given in to the awesomeness of _The Academy_ ). 

The Butcher was just wearing a little black Speedo, but written across the bottom _in Roman letters_ was the word _Santi_. Brendon figured it might mean something in the Butcher’s native language, but when he’d asked, Siska had got this crazy smile like he was going to eat Brendon’s head and said, “You know, it’s _Santi_ ,” and laughed a maniacal laugh. 

William had tried to explain to him in a slow, patient, maybe slightly condescending way the various uses of the word _Santi,_ before Jon came by, rolled his eyes and said, “it’s the shortened version of a name in some Earth language. Mexican? I don’t know.” 

Brendon sputtered a little bit at the hilarity of Jon suggesting that Mexican was a language before he realised, _wait, Jon’s not from Earth._ And then he was off on a whole different quest for knowledge, because how had he missed that? Years of living in San Francisco, the heart the United Federation of Planets, and his stint at Starfleet Academy had drilled into his head _humanoid does not equal Human_. 

But everything about Jon had screamed Human, except, maybe, his weird thing about wearing Andorian sleepwear all the time, but who was Brendon to judge, running around in denim jeans originally designed for teenaged girls? 

Now Brendon tried to follow Jon around the party to get a closer look without being obvious about it. His eyes were a soft brown, so that ruled out Betazoid, thank god. How embarrassing would it have been for Jon to hear all the inappropriate things Brendon had thought about him? Or Spencer. Or Ryan. Or him with Spencer or Ryan? He cast a nervous look around for the actual self-proclaimed telepath, but Chiz had wandered away now that Brendon’s questions had tapered off. 

Brendon found Jon playing cards in a smoky room in the basement where the music was just a distant rumble. He seemed to be delighting in confusing Ryan and Spencer with the rules. “You’re not trying to pull Fizzbin over on them, are you?” Brendon teased. 

Everyone in Starfleet loved swapping stories about Kirk’s crazy antics, and one of the favourites was Fizzbin. Many a times the dorms had seen late night attempts to recreate the game, with little success. 

Jon just looked politely confused by it, which just drove home the point that there was no way Jon had grown up on Earth. That was like, probably in the top five famous stories about James Kirk. 

Brendon took the seat beside him and pretended to be looking at his cards. Jon’s ears were shaped like a Human's; there were no ridges on his nose or on what of his forehead Brendon could see, and his hair was soft looking where it curled against his neck. 

Ryan made a frustrated sound and threw down his cards in disgust. “I’m done. You said something about swimming, Brendon?” 

Like that, Brendon forgot all about the mystery of Jon’s origins. Maybe he was a human who’d just been born on an outer planet, or something. Anyway, the prospect of getting Ryan in less clothing was one that was very okay with him. 

Z

Jon had the holodeck conjure him up a pair of swimming trucks, but Brendon, who Spencer was quite certain had been born without propriety, manners, or shame, ripped off his shirt and kicked off his jeans until he was in a tiny pair of white underwear that left little to the imagination. Ryan had shrugged and nodded pointedly to the Butcher, who was back on his scooter on the patio. 

Ryan didn’t seem to have any qualms about stripping down to his underwear, either, though his were far more respectable than Brendon’s. They were dark blue and resembling Jon’s trucks, only looser and in a thinner material. 

Spencer figured people got enough of an idea what his body looked like in his uniform everyday, so he stayed on one of the lawn chairs, completely dressed. It took, like, maybe ten seconds before he was aching to join them. Ryan had tried to ease himself in but both Jon and Brendon had jumped in with these huge splashes that completely submerged Ryan. 

Ryan came up sputtering, hair clinging to his cheek, curving around his top lip. He kept blinking, looking like he couldn’t believe it, and then after a moment of stillness began a vicious splash war. 

Brendon and Jon originally teamed up against Ryan, but it eventually became a free for all and somehow Ryan ended up on Jon’s shoulders, which was ridiculous, because Jon was tiny, and there was something about the way Ryan’s legs looked draped casually over Jon’s legs, like they belonged there. 

Then Brendon touched Ryan’s leg, hand smoothing up his calf and Ryan’s eyes got really big for a second before Brendon dug his thumb in Ryan’s knee—this ticklish spot, and no one knew that except Spencer. And there was flailing limbs and tumbling and another giant splash and when they all resurfaced Ryan was leaning on both of them and laughing this wonderful, open laugh that Spencer hadn’t seen in _ages._

Suddenly, Spencer really wanted to get in the pool, and he didn’t care who saw him half dressed. 

“Good thing you joined us willingly,” Jon said. He sidled up to the deep end of the pool where Spencer was sliding in against the wall, arms braced on the edge. He’d never swum in anything other than ponds and lakes before and this was warmer and cleaner, though there was a weird smell. 

“Willingly?” Spencer asked. He looked at Jon warily. 

Jon scratched his neck and gave Spencer a sheepish look. “Brendon and I were planning an ambush. It might have involved you entering the pool fully dressed.” 

Spencer looked to the other end of the pool where Brendon and Ryan were playing some weird game that involved the phrase _Marco Polo_ and Brendon staggering around with his arms outstretched and his eyes closed. Ryan looked bewildered, but he still had this hesitant happy expression on his face and every time Brendon got close, Ryan swam neatly and silently away. Brendon looked a little hopeless. 

“I’m not certain of the success,” Spencer said, tone wry. 

Jon shook his head hard, like an animal trying to dry itself and for a second Spencer saw a curving edge of gold in the centre of Jon’s forehead before Jon was flattening his hair against it, hiding it. “Don’t let him fool you,” he warned. “He looks all sweet and innocent, but Starfleet knows how to train their people to be triumphant in combat.” 

Spencer froze. He bit his lip and looked over at Ryan, who’d finally found himself in a corner. “He’s Starfleet?” he asked dully. Brendon caught Ryan, probably pulling him unnecessarily close, and Ryan squealed and fought against his grip, laughing all the while. This was so incredibly bad. 

“I know, right?” Jon said. He was smiling, because he didn’t realise how incredibly bad this was. “I never would have guessed it myself.” 

“You know what he does?” Spencer managed to keep his voice even and casual sounding. Maybe he was a doctor; that could be alright. Jon gave him a concerned look, though. Because Spencer could fool most people, but apparently after knowing Jon for roughly twenty-four hours, he couldn’t fool Jon. It made him feel distinctly uneasy. Almost as uneasy as knowing Brendon was Starfleet. 

“There’s a problem?” Jon asked. He looked unimpressed, flicking his gaze from Spencer to Brendon and back again, before putting his hands on his hips. It should have looked ridiculous since he was neck deep in water, and Spencer just should have laughed and pushed him away and dealt with it later. 

Only, Spencer found that he wanted to tell Jon. It was so weird, because he only really talked to his parents and Ryan, and occasionally to Brent, his fellow security officer. He was good with casual stuff, but opening up always felt weird. He wasn’t like Ryan, who felt like he was exposing himself. He felt like people didn’t want to _know_ these things about him, so why bother them. Except he got the feeling Jon really wanted to know. 

Spencer sighed. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with Starfleet.” He stopped and this was Jon he was talking to, who wanted to know. “That’s a lie. I do have a problem with Starfleet. I think that they’re a bunch of bureaucratic assholes, who talk about universal peace and the healing of wounds and shit like that, except they never do anything because they’ve got all these stupid rules and regulations that keep them from helping people when they should, and make them go to war when they shouldn’t, and…”

Jon didn’t say anything but he waded closer and gave Spencer a look that told him to continue. Spencer gave him a faint, melancholy smile. “But, I mean, I have some friends that are Starfleet. And I think Sisko, well, I think he thinks about Starfleet the same way I do sometimes and he’s really trying to help Bajor, you know? I think he might be this Emissary, and he’s just doing what he can.” 

“But Ryan…” They both looked over his time, but they weren’t playing any more. Ryan was pressed between the ladder and the wall and Brendon was treading water even though it was only about four feet deep. They’d sunk down ‘til their lips were just barely above water and were both clinging to the rungs of the ladder, hands touching and they were whispering. 

“Do you know much about Bajor?” Spencer asked. 

Jon shrugged. “Invited the Cardassians in and they took over, turned the Bajorans into slaves, ravaged the planet, committed mass genocide. Bajorans did away with their caste system and formed a resistance. Asked Starfleet for help. Starfleet threw the Prime Directive in their face. Cardassians eventually gave up because Bajorans are a tenacious bunch.” Here he paused and gave Spencer an affectionate look that Spencer felt obliged to return with a fierce smile. “Then Bajor invited Starfleet back and this time Starfleet came, and if you think I don’t see where you’re going, you’re wrong. I’m not saying I agree with Starfleet, either.” 

Spencer smiled when Jon’s voice, usually calm and relaxed, got a little hard and defensive at the end. “That’s not really where I was going. Well, that should be enough. For most of us, it is. If people aren’t happy with Starfleet they join the Maquis, move, or refuse assistance. Most are changing their minds, though, because of Sisko. 

“Ryan’s family lived on Jeraddo, the fifth moon of Bajor. I met him when his mother was killed in a strike on the Cardassians. He and his father were brought to Terok Nor…that’s, this, I mean, Deep Space 9, only the Cardassians called it Terok Nor. We were too young to be put to work doing hard labour, like my parents. We were used as servants to the officials on the station until we turned twelve. 

“Except, instead of sending us to the do the mining, or sending us to processing and refinement, they shipped us and my parents and sisters to this little colony on the fourth moon. It was poverty stricken and awful, but there weren’t any Cardassians and that was enough for us.” Spencer felt a lump rising in his throat. He couldn’t take his eyes off Ryan, afraid that Ryan might suddenly be able to hear him. But he knew Jon needed to hear this. Brendon would need to hear it, too. Hopefully soon, because when Ryan found out he was Starfleet…

“Ryan was so confused. Mom and dad knew something, but they wouldn’t tell us, so I knew it had to be awful, because my mom and dad would tell us anything. By then Ryan was like another son to them. Then, about a year before the Cardassians left, the colony was struck and we were put to work in the mines. My…” Spencer coughed and tried to fight the burning in his eyes. He rubbed his face so that Jon might mistake the tears on his face for pool water. 

“My youngest sister was killed by one of the Cardassians. She was weak and hurt and they said they’d help her, but it turned out she was sick, and they didn’t want to waste medicine on her, so the doctor just killed her.” 

Jon didn’t look horrified, and for that Spencer was grateful. He didn’t tell people about this often because he didn’t like the pity. Pity was useless. Lots of people had suffered far worse than Spencer—lost whole generations of their family, been sole survivors, like Ryan. But Jon’s eyes were sympathetic and he nodded for Spencer to go on. 

“Then the war ended and the Cardassians left and my parents came here and started their shop. Ryan went home and found out the reason we’d been spared for so long was that his father was a Cardassian sympathiser, and the reason we’d suddenly been put back to work was because his father had died. 

“And it was awful, but I thought he was going to get better, you know, because he’d hardly known his father and he hadn’t loved him, and it was awful, but the war was over and everything was quiet, and Ryan likes quiet. I went to stay with him and he just sort of relaxed, and seemed like he was at peace. 

“Starfleet came and he just ignored it, because most of the stuff that was going on was happening on Bajor and here, and he _hated_ Starfleet, but as long as he didn’t have to deal with them, as long as they left him alone, he was fine. 

“Major Kira had been this awesome figure in the Resistance, you know, someone we all looked up to because she didn’t back down from the Cardassians no matter what. She didn’t want Starfleet around, and she fought with the provisional government, and it was amazing. She was amazing. Before the war ended, Ryan and I planned on going to join the resistance and fight alongside her. 

“Then Kira shows up with Sisko and explains that the Federation has helped Bajor develop a plan for a new source of energy, and it involves using the molten core of Jeraddo and rendering the atmosphere poisonous and they just relocated everyone, like that, and when some people tried to stay and protest, Kira burnt down their house and…”

Jon touched his shoulder, ran a hand down his arm and let it settle above Spencer’s hip, right in the same place he’d watched Jon touch Ryan the night before with a hint of envy. Though whether he’d wanted to be Jon or Ryan, he still didn’t know. 

“So we came back here, and Ryan hates it, a lot, because Starfleet officers are all around, but I know he hates Bajor even more because they just let the Federation come in and do all these things, and look, I know that Bajor needed that energy, but you know, sometimes I don’t care, because Ryan is way more important to me than any person on that damned planet.” He hunched his shoulders and Jon squeezed his waist and pulled him a little closer. 

Brendon laughed and the sound startled Spencer. The party was still going on, but somehow when he’d been talking to Jon he’d felt a hush all around them. Ryan had a mischievous smirk and said something and then both he and Brendon began to swim towards them. 

“Spencer, Ryan thinks you’re too dry,” Brendon said. Ryan nodded sagely and nudged Brendon in the side with his elbow. “And too serious!” 

Jon and Spencer shared a look and somehow Spencer managed to convey that now wasn’t the time to break the news to Ryan. He figured the success of this message was down to Jon’s ability to understand these things more than it was to Spencer’s ability to express such a thing with raised brows and twitching lips. 

“I’m not wrestling you and I’m not getting on Jon’s shoulders,” Spencer told Brendon evenly. 

Brendon sunk down under the water until only his eyes were above and looked at Spencer like a petulant child. Ryan flicked Spencer on his arm, hard enough to sting. “Aren’t you the one always telling me I need to learn how to relax?” 

Before Spencer could answer, Brendon surged up and spit a mouthful of water in Spencer’s astonished face. Ryan made an “oooh” sound and swam quickly away and Jon inched back towards the edge of the pool. Brendon smirked gleefully at Spencer as if he didn’t realise he was about to be in the eye of the storm. 

“You are so going down,” Spencer said, and Brendon had a second to waggle his eyebrows suggestively before the water closed over his head. 

H

Brendon was really sad to see _The Academy_ go, especially right after he’d started to get to know them. He still wasn’t exactly sure why they were in such a hurry to go, only that one moment William had been saying they might stay for the festival next week and then Tony had said something about staying in one place for too long. 

Ryan voiced Brendon’s questions. “Jon was good at keeping our warp signature from being traced,” Sisky explained, “but without him we’re going to have to be extra careful about covering our tracks.” 

Spencer gave them a dubious look. “Should I be hearing this? Did you guys break some law here?” Brendon knew he was joking. Like, from Spencer’s stories he could tell that Spencer was good at his job, but he usually looked the other way if no one got hurt. 

“Smith Spencer,” William said woefully and put an arm over Spencer’s shoulders. Spencer regarded it even more dubiously. “Smith Spencer, you don’t even know the laws we’ve broken, here and elsewhere. Many, many laws. Many, many elsewheres. All broken. But that is not the issue at hand.” 

Chislett held up his hands, left palm out, right in front with his index and middle fingers bent and Sisky made a hissing sound. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryan asked, and he sounded unimpressed. 

Jon shook his head. “The Cobra, man,” Sisky said solemnly. “He’s after us, yo.” 

“Yeah,” William agreed, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Yeah. And he’s got _moves_. They are _hot_. And he’ll never stop.” 

So there were a lot of hugs and goodbyes and some fake tears on William’s part and they promised they’d be back when it was safe again. William tried to bribe Jon again into going with them with the promise of nubile slave girls and quality brew, but Jon looked at Ryan, Spencer and Brendon in turn and said, “Even more than before, I’m so not leaving with you.” 

It made Brendon feel all warm and glowy, a feeling that was only mildly dampened when Sisky sidled up to him, put an arm about his shoulder and said, “Remember this: you only see what he wants you to see, over and over again. Nothing more, and nothing less.” 

Brendon didn’t know what to make of that at all and Sisky sometimes looked really creepy. But then _The Academy_ left and Jon said, “So, drinks at my place?” and he pretty much forgot about it. 

He pretty much forgot about everything except Spencer and Ryan and Jon over the next couple of days. He forgot that he had any reason to be excited about DS9 that didn’t include the three of them, like, for instance, making a good impression on the crew here, making his parents proud, making a name for himself and getting promoted. 

Instead, over the next couple of days, he spent every waking hour with one, two, or all three of them—lunch at any of the dozen or so really neat restaurants on the Promenade, afternoons usually spent playing Earth sports with Jon on the holodeck, evenings drinking in one of their quarters. 

Brendon had spotted Ryan’s belaklavion and after some wheedling convinced Ryan to teach him. Brendon didn’t like to toss around the term musical prodigy as much as his parents did, in reference to himself, but it was still nice to see the impressed expression Ryan got when Brendon caught on rather quickly. 

Then, they’d all been on the Promenade when a ship had gone through the wormhole. Brendon had been stuck still and silent with awe, watching the swirling green and blue mouth open in the sky and Spencer had said, under his breath, something about how envious he was of the pilot. Jon and Brendon had discussed it and the next evening had surprised Ryan and Spencer by appropriating a shuttle and taking them out. 

Maybe Brendon would have got in a lot of trouble if anyone knew that he’d dropped his parents’ names to get a runabout and then let three civilians pilot it—two of which had never piloted anything before. But it was worth it to see the matching expressions of wonder on Spencer and Ryan. 

So maybe he should have been more excited about his first day on the job, but he was actually a little bit disappointed that he wouldn’t be free to spend the time with the others. That went away pretty much immediately, because his first day on the job was probably one of the best days ever, right after his first day on the station, because that was the day he’d met Jon and Spencer and Ryan. 

Lieutenant Dax started a fascinating conversation with him about a project she was working in regards to the wormhole. They ended up talking for a few hours, while running various daily scans that Brendon would be handling on his own, in the future. 

After lunch, Brendon got to take a runabout to Jeraddo with another ensign. The two of them were supposed to run some tests on some unusual seismic activity on the northern continent and monitor the energy gathering promise. 

By the time he’d changed and met Ensign Dorios and her friends on the holodeck he was incredibly tired, but he was so happy it didn’t even matter. Brendon really wanted to make friends with his new co-workers, he really, really did. 

He made a valiant effort to learn the rules, but Karo-net was a really complex game. Mostly he just tried to mimic Dorios, only that didn’t work because he was supposed to be playing a different position. Everyone was a really good sport about it, because there was only one other Bolian, and the rest of the group was as confused as Brendon. 

They made a loud, somewhat smelly crowd as they left Quark’s, all talking over each other, matching in their Starfleet sportswear. Brendon had felt a little awkward when he’d just showed up in track shorts and a tank in black trimmed with hot pink, but none of them had said anything. 

Someone said something about grabbing drinks and they pushed together a couple tables. Brendon tried. He really, really tried to get into the conversation, but after Spencer and Ryan and Jon, and the guys from _The Academy_ , a bunch of his colleagues trading the latest gossip about their superior offices was really…boring. 

“Brendon!” Brendon was always, always, always happy to see Jon, so the fact that he was even happier than usual had to say something about the entertainment level of his current companions. 

Dorios and Remsal, both of whom had been making eyes at Brendon (which he’d been very politely but pointedly ignoring), got matching pinched expressions on their faces when Jon laid his arms over Brendon’s shoulders and leaned down to say in his ear, “Brendon, Ryan is working. Spencer and I believe it is our solemn duty to make him stop. Wanna come?” 

“Smith Spencer and Ross Ryan?” Remsal asked, pulling a face. That made something ugly rear up in Brendon’s mind. What possible problem could someone have with Spencer and Ryan? 

As if conjured by the mention of his name, Spencer came over and stole Brendon’s drink right out of his hands, took a sip and made a face. “I’ve got some tulaberry wine back at my quarters. We show up at Ryan’s door and corner him and get him drunk, then Jon’s going to steal all his pads.” 

Jon wiggled his fingers; his arms still being over Brendon’s shoulders, the movement tickled a little where the pads of Jon’s fingers brushed Brendon’s collarbone. “I learned a thing or two on _The Academy_.” 

“Oh,” Dorios said, looking him up and down as if trying to place him. “ _You’re_ Starfleet?” 

Jon scoffed, a dismissive, slightly derogatory sound. Brendon had learned not to take offence. “No.” 

“Really? Did you drop out or something?” Ensign Franks asked. She had this little wrinkle in her nose that expressed her disdain. “I know the sexual education class can do that to some people.” 

Jon looked at Spencer, who appeared silently amused by the whole thing and then at Brendon who was trying to be a neutral third party. Jon surprised everyone by pushing back his bangs to reveal a small, golden disk on his brow. Brendon only got a little glimpse before Jon pressed his bangs back down again. He refused to show his surprise in front of everyone, but he was bursting with questions. 

“Yeah, that sex ed class of yours? Figure out anything about _my_ people’s sexual practices?” The entire table blushed, and, Brendon noted from the corner of his eye, so did Spencer. Vividly. Bright pink that spread all the way over his jaw, up his ears and over his throat and made his eyes seem even bluer. It was nice. 

“I was never at Starfleet Academy,” Jon said. 

“But you said...” Dorios protested, frowning. 

“That he’s from _The Academy_ ,” Brendon supplied helpfully. 

“Right!” Dorios said. 

“Exactly!” Jon said. 

“What?” Franks snapped.

“ _The Academy_ is from the Gamma quadrant,” Brendon explained. 

“Look, I think some of the Academy's ideology is out there, too, but that's really no reason to dabble in hyperbole,” Remsal scolded. 

Brendon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You mentioned something about telaberry wine?” he said to Spencer. 

He should have felt bad about leaving, but he was too excited by the prospect of spending time with Spencer and Jon and Ryan. Luckily, Dorios didn’t look annoyed so much as confused. He reminded himself to ask her later why it was so strange that he was spending time with Spencer and Ryan. They hadn’t been anything other than cool. 

Ryan was working on an article, and he tried to tell them he was too busy, but his eyes had lit up the moment he’d seen them, so they all knew it wouldn’t take much convincing. In fact, Spencer just invited himself in so Jon and Brendon followed suit, and Spencer poured them each a glass of wine and Ryan gave in just like that. 

Brendon had been as patient as he could be, but the telaberry wine was strong and after a couple glasses and a couple hours of chatter over a game of kal-toh, he was feeling bold. His hand, which had been resting on Jon’s shoulder, crept to his hairline, brushing up near his ear, then his temple, toying with Jon’s bangs. He could tell by the way Spencer was watching them from the corner of his eye that he was intrigued, too. 

Jon took a sip of his wine and eyed Brendon evenly. Brendon could tell from the little smirk playing on his lips that he wasn’t going to just volunteer the information. Brendon flicked his bangs up once, caught a glimpse of silver. Flipped it again. Now he had Ryan’s attention, too. 

“So,” Brendon said casually. He flipped them up again and this time held them that way. 

“So,” Jon echoed and arched a brow. Up close, with time to look, Brendon could see the way the disk was silver with Jon’s head tilted toward the light, but gold when shadowed. The shape in the centre could have been a flower or a star, Brendon couldn’t be sure, but it was a dark brown red, dull against the metallic shine of the disk. 

It was so incredibly inappropriate, Brendon knew, but he couldn’t help it. He licked his lips and darted a glance at Jon. “Can I touch it?” he asked. Jon nodded, the disk going _silver gold silver gold silver_. 

Brendon touched the skin just outside and it felt the same as any skin, not really particularly warm or cool, soft. Then he dragged his finger down and the skin became cold and slippery smooth, the ridges of the flower-star faint and precise against his fingertip. 

Ryan and Spencer watched with curiosity, and Brendon knew if they asked, Jon would let them touch it, too. Brendon wanted to touch them, too, Spencer’s faint, barely there ridges and Ryan’s sharp ones that he kept hidden under his bangs. Like Jon had kept this hidden. Brendon tapped his finger against the spot gently, then dropped Jon’s bangs and took his hands back before it got too weird, all the touching. 

“You know what I said down there,” Jon said, not a question. “About my people’s sexual practices. I don’t really like the questions I get about them. Everybody in the galaxy assumes that just because most Risians are sexually adventurous and promiscuous that all of us are. And I figure it’s easier if people just don’t know. Especially given the way everyone on _The Academy_ was. I’d have been molested before they’d learned my name.” 

He shrugged and that was it, and Brendon might have thought, in the very back of his mind, that it was a shame that Jon wasn’t sexually adventurous. Then he thought about Ryan and Spencer and thought that he wasn’t sure it was Jon with whom he wanted to be sexually adventurous. Then he thought it was better not to think about it at all. 

Θ

Ryan was always suspicious when he sent out his news broadcast and noticed the ever-growing number of Starfleet officers subscribing. He was inclined to believe they were trying to know the enemy, or something (like Ryan was some dangerous radical—Starfleet had funny ideas about free speech), except since Bajor wasn’t part of the Federation, Ryan could charge for the broadcast. He didn’t charge those who couldn’t afford it, but he always attached a cost when Starfleet officers subscribed. It was strange because they _paid_ it, even though they probably had to go through some ridiculous paperwork to get the credits to do so. 

There was a new subscriber for this issue, who’d transferred the credits immediately. Starfleet Ensign B. Urie. 

It was _suspicious_. 

He wasn’t pleased with his current broadcast, but he’d been distracted by everything else going on in his life. He’d meant to include an update on the situation on a border dispute on Velos III, but it could wait until the next issue. At least he’d managed to finish the piece he’d done on the farmers in Sahving Valley. Try and get the Federation to put a positive spin on that. 

Already his inbox was flooded with letters to the editor and he’d sifted through the regular trash—die hard Federation supporters besmirching the Ross name, pointing out that Ryan’s father had been a Cardassian sympathiser and nothing he said should be trusted—one pathetically hoodwinked Bajoran Starfleet Lieutenant who always tried to explain the situation from a Starfleet perspective and only ever succeeded in making it sound worse—the regular threats and promises for ceasing and desisting, always anonymous—and his favourite, the conspiracy theorists who sent him the most hilarious and ridiculous leads. 

He’d sent off some responses and set aside a few of the letters for printing in the Letters to the Editor section of the next broadcast, and by then he’d received another hundred messages. It was late—five minutes until he was supposed to close the store, and meet Spencer at Quark’s for a drink. He was kind of hoping that Jon and Brendon might be there, too, though they hadn’t made any plans. 

It was crazy, he mused, as he signed out of the terminal and began to gather his pads, how quickly they’d all become close. Ryan knew he was difficult to get to know, and he liked it that way. Spencer was his only close friend, and he only occasionally hung out with Brent, or Leeta and her friends. It wasn’t that he didn’t want more friends. He was generally indifferent about it. Jon and Brendon made it impossible to be indifferent about them by being generally amazing. 

Ryan fought a grin just thinking about them and then thought, why fight it and just grinned like an idiot. He was so eager to see them; he didn’t care if they showed up. He knew the number of Jon’s quarters, he’d call him, and Jon probably knew where Brendon’s were. 

It struck Ryan then, that it was strange he didn’t know where Brendon’s quarters were, or even his family name. Jon had told them dozens of stories about himself and Spencer had responded in kind with some of the funnier stories of criminals that were processed on DS9, but Brendon hadn’t said much about his past. It wasn’t in the obvious way Ryan avoided discussing himself, but when he thought about it, he realised that Brendon always deferred questions about his past by asking questions of others. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to expect to know Brendon’s secrets without giving some of his own, but Ryan was curious. He thought everyone on Earth had perfect lives—that was what the Federation told everyone. Then again, Brendon wasn’t anything like the Humans Ryan had met. 

The chime on his door rang as he was packing his pads in the little sack Jon had given him the evening before when they’d arrived at his quarters. Jon said it was cute, the way Ryan tried to balance everything, but this was more practical, and Ryan had to agree. And it was a pretty bag—deep jewel tones in an abstract swirling pattern, hand made on Risa. 

Out of the corner of his eye he glanced the familiar uniform of a Starfleet officer. He suppressed a groan of annoyance. “I’m closing. Also, no Starfleet officers,” Ryan recited, since the idiot apparently couldn’t read—the sign was in every Federation language, and a few others just to be safe. 

It wasn’t usually a problem, because not many Starfleet officers came by. Most of them were ‘above the need for material possessions.’ While he sold other jewellery, his main source of revenue was from the purchase of Bajoran earrings. Every once in a while, though…

Ryan looked up and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, because Brendon was leaning against one of the jewellery cases in a Starfleet uniform, faux pout on his face. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t have taken out the subscription for your paper, either, then,” he said sullenly. He didn’t get it. Brendon didn’t get that Ryan had been serious. 

“I’ve…I’ve got to meet Spencer,” Ryan muttered. His lips felt numb and useless. 

“Yeah, I thought you might be doing that,” Brendon said. “I was hoping I’d catch you here first, though. I really wanted to see your stuff.” He bent over the case, tracing his finger over the glass. “Did you make all of this?” 

Ryan stared at the clean lines of Brendon’s uniform—crisp black that made him appear oddly bulky, hiding the curves and planes that Brendon’s usual clothing showcased so nicely. The strip of turquoise over his shoulders meant medical or science and the single gold and black pip on his neck meant he was an Ensign. 

“Ryan?” Brendon was looking at him with an expression of concern and Ryan realised he must have been staring a long time. His eyes caught on the Starfleet insignia shining on Brendon’s chest, just above his heart. Brendon had sworn an oath to them. 

“I’m sorry,” Brendon said, fingering the badge lightly. “I just got off work. I didn’t have time to change.” 

“I’ve got to meet Spencer,” Ryan repeated. He walked hurriedly out the door and Brendon followed fast on his heels. 

“Yeah, hey, Ryan.” Brendon grabbed his wrist and Ryan jerked back as if burnt. 

“ _Don’t_ touch me,” Ryan hissed. He turned his back on the destroyed look on Brendon’s face, locking the door. 

“Sorry,” Brendon said, and his voice—his voice. Ryan felt like something inside of him died. “Sorry. Um. I should. I have to go. I’m supposed to meet some people on the holodeck. I. Sorry.” 

“Brendon,” Ryan sighed, and turned around, but Brendon was already halfway across the Promenade, hurrying through the crowd. 

Ryan got through the door of Quark’s, saw Jon and Spencer laughing together and turned around and left. He went back to his room instead and dropped his bag of pads by the door. He had so much work to do but couldn’t care. 

He signed onto Starfleet database and realised, suddenly, that he still didn’t know Brendon’s last name. He thought about it a few moments, biting his bottom lip, and just searched Brendon, selecting the rank Ensign, but came up with close to two thousand hits. He went back and remembered Brendon saying he’d subscribed to the broadcast and remembered Ensign B. Urie and tried it. Six hits came up, five containing Brendon’s name in the body of the entry, one with his name at the top. 

The picture on his public dossier looked recent, but his hair was shorter and styled neatly, slicked to the side and back. He wasn’t wearing the black makeup around his eyes like he normally did, and Ryan realised he’d been so busy staring at Brendon’s uniform in the store he hadn’t paid any attention to Brendon’s face. In his picture, Brendon looked serious and confident and it made Ryan’s stomach hurt. 

There wasn’t a lot of information open to the public, just enough to paint a picture of the kind of student Brendon had been. Finished the four-year programme in three years then finished the two-year command training in one year while simultaneously participating in the prestigious Red Squad internship. He’d been top of his class at Starfleet Academy and in the command programme, captain of the _U.S.S. Vermillion_ for three missions while in the Red Squad. 

Admiral Boyd Urie had thinning grey hair and a severe expression on his face, and didn’t look anything like Brendon. His dossier was far more extensive than Brendon’s, obviously, detailing the many posts he’d held and the various diplomatic missions on which he’d been. 

Admiral Grace Urie was where Brendon had got his looks. She had long auburn hair and a sharp smile, and didn’t look more than a few years older than Brendon himself. Her dossier was even more impressive than her husband’s, full of famous battles and posts on famous ships, including a nice long stint on the _Enterprise-D._

Commander Kara Urie was the executive officer on a medical ship that patrolled the outer planets. Lieutenant Jarod Urie was only a couple years older than Brendon, and was already the helmsman of the Starfleet flagship _U.S.S Aucoin_. His oldest brother, Clark Urie—and this was where Ryan’s heart stopped and his stomach fell somewhere to his feet—was an ambassador to the Cardassians. 

He stared at that word for a long time, his mind just utterly blank. He tried to process it, but he simply could not. After a while he got up and turned off the screen and sat on his sofa, staring out the window. Bajor spun in the distance. Ryan would have preferred being on the side of the station that didn’t have a view of the planet, but he was supposed to be the grateful war orphan, and it wasn’t like he’d got a say in the matter, anyway. 

Then the thoughts came. They came too fast, all at once—the look on Brendon’s face when Ryan had shouted at him, the fact that his parents were apparently these Starfleet legends, the fact that Clark Urie _lived on Cardassia Prime_ and _was an ambassador to the people who had ruined Ryan’s life._ Never mind the fact that Brendon himself was an officer for the people who’d come along as Ryan was putting his ruined life back together and stamped it into a million smaller, more jagged pieces. 

His stomach swirled unpleasantly and he was glad he’d been too busy to eat anything for lunch, because he was pretty sure it would be coming up if he had. Only, he couldn’t understand what about the situation was the worst thing. 

Brendon hadn’t ever talked about his past. It seemed like something that would come up over the course of a few days of getting to know someone. Brendon knew Spencer and Ryan’s jobs and even some things about their childhood; they knew pretty much everything about Jon’s exploits across the galaxy. But what did any of them know about Brendon? 

He’d known that Brendon liked to swim, couldn’t bowl to save his life, had a pretty good knowledge of the Bajoran caste system, and generally looked adorable no matter what he was doing, with an option on hot when he did this thing with his mouth and his eyebrows. Everything important about Brendon he’d just learned from a computer screen, and even that didn’t tell him very much. 

This was his first assignment. Shouldn’t he be excited about it and talking about it to anyone who asked? Why was he dressed in a green uniform when he was in the command track? Why hadn’t he worn his uniform in his down time like practically every other officer on the station? How had he made Ryan care so much about him in only a few days without ever revealing anything important about himself? 

Because, okay, Ryan wouldn’t feel like this if he didn’t care. If he didn’t care he would have been glad to see Brendon go and he wouldn’t have looked him up and he wouldn’t be sitting here alone on the verge of tears trying to figure this out. 

He wanted to say _so what his brother is on Cardassia?_ He wanted to say _Brendon isn’t like them_. But all he could think was that he’d trusted his father when he was a boy and his father had sold his wife to the Cardassians for a few more years. All he could think was that once upon a time Kira Nerys was his hero, only then she became close friends with Benjamin Sisko. 

“Brendon’s different, Brendon’s different,” Ryan said, face pressed close into the back of his sofa. It was hot and damp and he couldn’t tell if it was because of his breath or if he was actually crying. “Brendon’s different.” 

I

Spencer had been on his way to meet Ryan when he’d run into Jon on the Promenade. It was the first day since they’d met one another that they hadn’t made plans, at one point or another, to meet, and he’d been just about to break down and send Jon a wave, inviting him to Quark’s. 

Jon was easily recognisable in his shades of cream and off-white, bright in the crowd of dark Starfleet and earthy Bajoran uniforms. He was, as usual, wearing those strange Betazoid sandals that were more decoration than protection, but Jon said he liked the air around his toes and Spencer had snorted and tried not to smile, because it was ridiculous that he found everything Jon said and did charming. 

“I’m going to start thinking you’re stalking me, Smith Spencer,” Jon said. 

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh. “Me? I think you and Brendon have the corner on stalking.” He’d just got off work and hadn’t had time to change before heading out to meet Ryan. Usually he didn’t mind wearing his uniform, though Ryan gave him a hard time about it. Now, however, he was hyperaware of the fact that the uniform was tight and unforgiving, and he wondered what Brendon and Jon saw when they saw him in it. 

“Catch any criminals today?” Jon asked. 

“Oh, god, please,” Spencer said, and laughed. He hadn’t thought, when he’d first taken the job, that working at the security office wouldn’t be a job that led to any particularly amusing stories. He’d been wrong. Not only did Constable Odo tend to be somewhat unorthodox in his method of criminal investigation and undercover work, but also being at the mouth of the wormhole brought all sorts of colourful characters to DS9. 

Today there’d been an easily excitable Betazoid who had, in the course of a drunken argument, removed all of his clothing and when approached by security, refused to abide by the oppressive rules of a prudish government. He was currently sleeping it off in one of the cells, but it had taken all of Spencer’s control to get through the booking process without breaking out into laughter. 

He related that story and others to Jon as they made their way down the Promenade, and it wasn’t until they were on their third drink that Spencer realised Ryan should have joined them ages ago. He was just about to start to worry when Ryan came rushing in. 

There was dark around Ryan’s eyes that looked like his makeup had been running and his eyes were red from crying. He was toying with the ends of his scarf, a nervous tick he’d developed in recent years. “Hey,” Spencer said, when he saw him approach. Ryan frowned. “Brendon’s not with you?” 

“No,” Spencer said carefully. “Was he supposed to be?” He couldn’t imagine Brendon doing much to make Ryan cry, other than the one, big, obvious thing, and he felt guilty that he’d been having so much fun with Jon and Brendon and the newness of it that he hadn’t wanted to potentially ruin that by warning Brendon about the Starfleet thing. 

“I…” Ryan stopped and thought about it. “No. He said he had to meet someone on the holodeck.” 

“Probably those guys from the other night,” Jon said in an off-handed way. Ryan shot him a look, then one at Spencer. 

“You knew, didn’t you?” he asked, but he sounded more resigned than accusatory. His shoulders slumped even before he’d received affirmation. He hurried off to the bar, and after a quick conversation with Leeta, he began to push through the crowd toward the stairs. 

“Come on,” Spencer said. He stood and snagged Jon’s sleeve, leading him after Ryan. There was a dull ache of guilt settling in his chest. He couldn’t just leave this to Brendon. 

Just as they caught up with Ryan the doors to the holodeck slid open and roughly a dozen Starfleet officers spilled out. Spencer glanced through the crowd, looking for a familiar smile, and he realised Brendon wasn’t there at roughly the same moment as Ryan did. They looked at each other, and Ryan had a desperate sort of frown twisting his lips. 

Ensign Dorios gave them a look up and down and sauntered away from the rest of them. “So, you’ve managed to sweet-talk Urie from us,” she said, but she didn’t seem unduly upset about it. 

“Actually, we were looking for him, too,” Ryan said, surprising Spencer with the even, almost cordial tone he managed. 

Dorios’ eyes widened a little. “He said he was coming tonight. I just assumed that he got sidetracked by you.” 

“No, I—” Ryan paused, looked surprised he was willingly giving information to a Starfleet officer, and then swallowed hard and kept speaking. “I saw him a couple hours ago and he said he was meeting some friends at the holodeck.” 

Remsal shrugged. “He probably got a call from Lieutenant Dax; stuff comes up from time to time.” 

They didn’t seem very concerned about his standing them up, pushing past Spencer on their way downstairs, chattering loudly about some Federation gossip. Spencer waited until they were well out of earshot before turning to Ryan. 

“What did you say to him?” Spencer didn’t mean for it to sound accusatory—Ryan was his best friend, for prophet’s sake, and he knew how Ryan felt about Starfleet. But he was worried about Brendon, too. 

The lost look Ryan gave him made Spencer’s anger soften and he reached out to put an arm around Ryan’s shoulders. At the same time, Jon put an arm around Ryan’s waist and they held him close. Jon’s shoulder was warm where it touched Spencer’s hand, Ryan’s skin was soft under Spencer’s palm, Jon’s knuckles brushed Spencer’s hip every time Ryan inhaled and Spencer didn’t like to think very much about how right this felt. 

“I didn’t—you could have warned me,” Ryan said, but he didn’t sound bitter or angry, just sad, on the verge of tears. Spencer met Jon’s gaze over Ryan’s bowed head and together they made the silent decision, hurrying Ryan out of the bar, down the hall towards the lift. 

“I thought Brendon should tell you himself,” Spencer said, and he knew it didn’t make it any better. 

“What did you say to him?” Jon asked, much more gently than Spencer had. He was touching Ryan in little ways that seemed to keep the tears at bay—a hand on his elbow, a stroking touch down his back, fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I didn’t—” Ryan made a sound in the back of his throat. Spencer knew from many years of experience how difficult it was for Ryan to admit he’d said or done anything wrong. He knew the words ‘I’m sorry’ were pretty much lost—Ryan said them with looks or presents or hugs, but never out loud. 

“He just showed up in that _uniform_ and I couldn’t think about anything. I didn’t…he grabbed my wrist, and I didn’t mean to. I told him not to touch me. I shouted it at him, and he. I tried to stop him, but he left too quickly.” 

Jon told the lift where to go on the habitat ring and Spencer realised he was leading them to Brendon’s room. Ryan realised it too, lifting his head to stare at Jon. Jon stared back, almost in challenge. 

“You’re going to tell him why you shouted at him,” Jon said, matter-of-factly, and Spencer could tell from the way Ryan’s spine straightened that he was putting two and two together and realising that Jon knew, and Jon knew because Spencer had told him. 

But Ryan didn’t snap, and after a moment his shoulders sagged and after another moment he nodded his head resignedly. 

Only, if Brendon was in his quarters, he wasn’t answering. They stood outside for several moments, Jon ringing the bell repeatedly and insistently, before pressing the comm. link and saying “quit being an asshole, Bden, open the damn door.” 

The only answer was silence. Ryan’s shoulders kept sloping further and further down. Spencer stroked his thumb across the skin behind his ear and Ryan shivered and snuggled closer to him. “It’ll be okay,” Spencer said. “He can’t be any worse at pouting than you are.” 

He’d expected Ryan to give him a glare, or something, and he wasn’t disappointed. But it didn’t have the normal sting that Spencer expected of a Ryan glare. Jon bumped his shoulder against Ryan’s. “He’s cool. It’ll be cool.” 

“Cool?” Ryan echoed, unexpectedly. Spencer was curious, too. It meant something, he knew, the hopeful way Ryan was looking at Jon from under his lashes. He looked so small, despite the fact that he had several inches on Jon. 

“Cool,” Jon repeated, and slung his arm back around Ryan’s waist. “It’s Earth slang. Brendon taught it to me. It means good. But you’ll talk to Brendon, when he’s ready, and it’ll be way better than that.” 

Spencer believed him, and Spencer didn’t believe a lot of people. Mostly, he believed his parents, Ryan, and Constable Odo. But Jon had such an easy confidence, and even without realising, Spencer had begun to believe him from the first moment they’d spoken. 

K

Brendon had fucked up. He knew that. He just wasn’t sure _how_. He’d replayed the scene in his mind pretty much non-stop since it had happened and he still couldn’t figure out what he’d done. He’d barely even said anything, and Ryan had been in a good mood the evening before when they’d parted ways. 

The disgust in Ryan’s voice when he’d told Brendon not to touch him was probably the worst thing he’d ever experienced in his life—including all the times his parents had dressed him down over less than perfect grades. 

But still. Shouting and disgust and glaring aside, Brendon couldn’t figure this out. 

He remembered it pretty clearly, up until the very end. He’d been too distracted to go to the holodeck, and he’d meant to go back to his quarters and think things over. Halfway there he’d realised no amount of thinking was going to help him understand. He needed outside assistance, in the form of Ryan. And if Ryan weren’t going to talk to him, Spencer would do in a pinch. 

Except, on the way back to the Promenade, Ryan had been waiting for him, smiling guilelessly, like nothing had happened, beckoning Brendon from down the hall and disappearing around the curve toward the docking ring. 

Brendon remembered something his father said about hindsight being twenty-twenty, and yeah. He should have known something was weird about it. The way even when he caught up Ryan just kept smiling that creepy smile, never offering a response to any of Brendon’s questions. 

Then he’d heard the sound of an airlock hissing and a door opening and a British accent saying, “He’s tiny, but he’ll do.” 

Brendon didn’t remember the press of a hypospray, but the sting he felt in his neck told him one must have been administered. Whatever it had contained had rendered him unconscious, for how long he couldn’t say, but he was still fuzzy around the edges with it. He could hear the gentle hum of a warp engine and distant chatter, but the voices were too far away for him to understand what was being said. 

“Ryan?” he asked blearily. He would figure out what he’d done to make Ryan want to drug him and he’d fix it. He’d fix it, because there was no other option, because he had to be able to fix it. 

“Ryan?” another voice repeated. “Is that who you were seeing back there? Ryan.” 

“Jesus, what is he, five?” a female voice asked, laced with derision. “I didn’t know Starfleet was so desperate that they were hiring preschoolers.” 

“I think he’s growing on me. We should keep him,” interjected another voice. 

Brendon tried to open his eyes, but the lids felt as though they were sealed shut. Instead, he groaned and said, “Whuz goin’ on?” because his tongue and lips weren’t working all that well, either. 

“I’m giving him another hypo.” Another voice, followed by the cold press of a hypospray to his pulse point. There was a slight sting and then a rush of cool going through him, bringing his muscles back to life. 

When he opened his eyes, five curious faces surrounded him, at least two of which were alien. “Yo,” said one of the men. “Welcome to my ship, little Starfleet dude. This is my crew—” Here he gestured around him. 

“My chief of security, Victoria.” The woman, eyeing him like he was a potential meal, at first glance appeared to be Trill, but when he studied her markings more carefully, he noted they were shaped and coloured differently, and stopped at her collar bone. Her low neckline made it clear they did not continue down as they would on a Trill. 

“Acting second-in-command and communications expert, Ryland.” An exceedingly tall, slender man who possessed no superficial traits to mark him as alien, but who looked entirely too knowing for Brendon’s taste. 

“Our trust-worthy navigator and pilot, Alex.” Who had hair like Jon’s, but wasn’t as cuddly looking, and as far as Brendon could tell, not an alien, either, but then again, Jon’s hair had been hiding his Risian marking, so, whatever. 

“And our chief engineer, Nate.” This one shimmered like the Butcher had, only more gold than bronze, which was slightly less impressive, and he looked kinda scruffy, too, and like he couldn’t be much older than Brendon, so Brendon didn’t think it was fair that Victoria was making fun of his age. 

“And last but not least, me. Captain of this fine vessel, at your service.” He bowed with a flourish and Brendon’s eyes finally focussed on him. He was a Vorta, tall and with the startlingly purple eyes and pale skin that were the trademark of his people. He’d never appreciated until now how much the curved, ribbed extension from jaw to ear resembled the hood of the Earth snake the—

“Holy shit!” Brendon exclaimed, and clapped a hand over his mouth. “You’re _the Cobra_.” His voice was slightly muffled, but the Captain perked up. 

“I see our reputation precedes us,” he said, cocky in a way that reminded Brendon of William. 

“I was warned about you,” Brendon said, without thinking. 

The Cobra exchanged looks with Ryland and Victoria. Then he swept closer, going down on one knee to get close to Brendon. “Warned?” he purred. “Warned about _me_?” 

“Let me interrogate him, Captain,” Victoria said, in a way that made Brendon’s spine shiver—unpleasantly. 

“ _Who_ warned you about me?” the Cobra pressed, thankfully ignoring Victoria’s request. He let the back of his fingers fall against Brendon’s cheek. 

Brendon had been taught all about withstanding torture and not giving into interrogation and things like that, and he’d always been really good at it when he was with the Red Squad. But none of this had, so far as he knew, anything to do with the Federation, so what could honesty hurt. 

“The…the guys on _The Academy_.” A gasp rippled through the entire crew. 

“ _The Academy_ ,” Cobra repeated, and yeah, this conversation was going to take a while if Cobra was going to parrot everything Brendon said. 

Brendon nodded. “Sisky said…he said that I’ll only see what you want me to see…” Brendon spoke with a sudden awareness that explained Ryan’s weirdness in the hallway. Somehow Cobra had made him see Ryan when he wasn’t really there. 

“And William said your moves were hot and that you would never stop,” Brendon continued. 

Cobra leaned back at that, an expression that could only be described as goofily happy on his face. “Bill said that?” 

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m kinda new to Starfleet, and I’m not sure how long I was out, but I have a shift that starts at 0700 and I don’t think that Commander Sisko will look too kindly on me missing like, my third day of work.” Brendon had been told he had the tendency to babble when nervous. He gripped his hands in his lap and bit his tongue to keep from saying anything else. 

“Starfleet?” Cobra said, putting his hand companionably on Brendon’s shoulder. “Can I call you Starfleet?” Brendon considered giving his name, then wondered if that was smart, then decided if Gabe wasn’t asking, he wasn’t offering, and he just nodded his head ‘yes.’ 

“Good. Starfleet,” Cobra started again, “I’m Gabriel, by the way, but you can call me Gabe. First off, you’ve been out for a good ten hours. It’s 0900 right now, so you’re already late. Second, the _Cobra_ here is part of an armada, and the Admiral of the Fleet has requested some very specific things of us. He’s given us a deadline by which we must acquire and/or perform said things, and that deadline is fast approaching. 

“And that’s where you come in, Starfleet,” Gabe said, squeezing his shoulder. 

“Me?” Brendon squeaked. This did not sound promising. This did not sound promising at all. 

“You see, Pete has this _thing_ for boys in the Starfleet uniform. Like, he wears one himself, most of the time. So I need to have you around, Starfleet. It’ll look good. And besides, I promise you’ll have more fun with us than you would on that Cardassian piece of shit where we found you.” 

“B-but,” Brendon sputtered. “But what will he-what will Pete do with me?” 

Gabe shrugged. “IDK. Not really my problem.” 

Ryland took Brendon on a tour of the _Cobra_ , eyeing him speculatively all the while. It was creepy. In fact, the entire crew was sorta creepy, with the possible exception of Alex, and maybe Nate, but maybe they were just the quiet sort of creepy, or Brendon hadn’t been around long enough. 

“You’re free to move about the ship as you please,” Ryland explained, “but I’d advise you against any escape attempts. The Captain does not take well to attempted insurrection.” 

Brendon considered pointing out that it wouldn’t technically be insurrection since Brendon was being held against his will, but then he decided that Ryland was a lot taller than him and had a scary look about him, and just left it alone. 

The ship was only four decks—the bridge and captain’s quarters on the first deck, crew quarters and mess hall on the second deck, and engineering, Astrometric and holodecks on the third deck. On the forth deck there were two hangers—one large enough to house a small ship and another, smaller one with a missing shuttle (Ryland had said, with a mysterious look, that the XO was currently using it) and storage compartments. 

“This is where you’ll be staying.” Ryland led him to a door between the ones he’d indicated as being his own and Victoria’s. 

The rooms were opulently appointed and looked like something out of a sketch of a Victorian era townhouse. There was a loveseat and two wingback chairs upholstered in matching patterns, a coffee table and two end tables with actual real, old-fashioned lamps. The only modern concessions were the computer built into the antique writing desk in the corner, and the replicator next to the small, hand carved dining table and chairs. 

Most of the bedroom was taken up by a large, four-poster bed. It was dressed in deep purple and cream sheets, more pillows than could ever be necessary, and purple curtains hung around it. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled to bursting, and scattered over the various surfaces of the room were instruments from all over the galaxy. 

The bathroom was just as nice—sunken marble tub, glistening gold fixtures, lights that flickered like candles. The towels were longer than Brendon, and looked softer than anything Starfleet issued. 

“You guys treat all your hostages this way?” Brendon asked. 

Ryland gave him a smirk. “Just the special ones.” Brendon stared him down and Ryland gave in with a sigh. Brendon might admit it probably had less to do with Ryland being intimidated, and more with the fact that Brendon could make his eyes really big and pathetic looking. 

“These are the quarters of our XO. But he mainly shares the Captain’s quarters, anyway, so even if he was around, you could probably still sleep here,” Ryland explained. He said it with a sort of fondness. 

“Anyway, you’re free to use the kitchen and holodeck at your leisure, though someone usually makes brunch at 1100 and dinner between 1800 and 2000, and every evening at 2200, the crew gathers in the holodeck.” 

Brendon wondered if their gatherings in the holodeck were anything like _The Academy’s_. Or if they were more like the orgies Jon had hinted at. Brendon wouldn’t be surprised, either way. 

He caught sight of the bookshelf nearest him and saw dozens upon dozen of books, all with titles written in the Roman alphabet. Most were familiar from school, whether he’d read them or not. “Is your first officer Human?” Brendon asked. 

Ryland laughed. “Silly boy,” he said, and left Brendon to his own devices. 

Λ

Brendon hadn’t answered any of the waves Jon had sent him, and then Spencer had called him at 0900 hours when he should have been asleep, but had been kept awake by anxiety. Spencer waved Jon back to explain that Brendon hadn’t shown up for duty and his quarters had been checked and there was no sign of him, and when the computer had been asked, it had revealed that Brendon wasn’t even on DS9 anymore. 

Apparently, Brendon’s family were bigwigs in the Federation, because a wave to them had been answered immediately, insisting that Brendon wouldn’t just up and leave without a damn good reason and certainly not without telling his commanding officer. A brief conversation between Sisko, Kira and Odo, and the Uries, led to Brendon’s disappearance being officially termed “missing due to foul play.” 

“And Ryan was the last one to see him,” Spencer said, voice hushed. They’d met in an empty section of the outer ring on his lunch break. Spencer kept whispering, worried that someone was listening. Given that Spencer’s boss could shape-shift into virtually anything, he felt it wasn’t him being paranoid. 

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Jon muttered. “If Ryan knew anything that might help, he’d have said it hours ago.” 

Spencer made a small noise. “You don’t get it. Ryan hates the Federation. And everyone on this station knows it. He writes all about it all the time in his articles.” 

“Yeah, but,” Jon started, “I mean, he’s Ryan. He wouldn’t—”

“He’s gotten into three fights with Starfleet officers in the last year and a half. The last time he broke a guy’s nose for wearing a Bajoran earring. He was in the brig for a month.” 

Spencer’s face narrowed, because he knew if he didn’t he might do something embarrassing, like cry. Jon touched him lightly, first on the elbow, and when Spencer didn’t jerk away, he pulled him into a gentle hug. Spencer didn’t usually hug people other than his mother, and sometimes Ryan, but Jon’s arms felt good around him. Spencer was taller, but he folded himself up against Jon like he was something small. 

“It’s okay. We’re the only ones who know, right?” Jon asked. Spencer nodded into his shoulder. “And we know Ryan doesn’t know what happened to him. So it won’t hurt Brendon if we don’t tell anyone. We’ll figure out something else.” 

Spencer didn’t like lying to Constable Odo. Most of the time Odo was just as willing to look the other way as Spencer was about some of the low-key smuggling that went on under their noses. But a missing Federation officer was a big deal. Like Spencer didn’t know that, because it was _Brendon_ , but still. Spencer felt like he was lying by omission. 

Brent, Spencer and Laliya had been assigned to questioning potential witnesses. Anyone who came into the security office with information was assigned to one of them. Spencer forced himself not to be distracted by his concern over Ryan, because one of these people might have actually seen something that would help him find Brendon. 

At 1900 hours, Spencer was supposed to be off the clock, but everyone was working overtime on Brendon’s disappearance. Laliya had been taken off the case to investigate an unscheduled arrival of a Gamma quadrant ship on the docking ring. The number of witnesses was dwindling, and Spencer was hoping he might be able to get a break to talk to Ryan when Brent finished his most recent interview. 

There was a look on Brent’s face with which Spencer was unfamiliar. Brent was a pretty simple guy—he was usually either happy or angry, but he had this uncertain, almost conflicted expression. “What is it?” Spencer asked, the bottom falling out of his stomach. 

“That shop owner. She had a shop across from Ryan’s. She said she was locking up her store at the same time as Ryan last night and saw him arguing with a Starfleet officer. Said she didn’t think anything about it until she saw the alert.” Brent sat on the edge of Spencer’s desk, leaning close to tell him. Leaving it up to Spencer, he realised, whether or not to say anything. “She saw a picture of Urie and said it was him that Ryan was arguing with.” 

That power was taken before it had really been given, when Constable Odo came into the office, leading Ryan by a hand on his elbow. “I’m sorry to have to do this, Smith, Wilson,” Odo said, voice gravely, “but I’m going to have to ask you to sit this case out, until we’ve ruled out Mister Ross’ involvement.” 

Ryan met Spencer’s gaze. “Let me stay,” Spencer said. “I won’t say anything, please, Odo.” 

Odo gave him a long, searching glance, the sort that usually made Spencer squirm, but he forced himself to stay still, look worthy. Finally, Odo made a grumbling sound and nodded his head. “Not a word out of you, though.” 

The three of them went into Odo’s office, but Odo didn’t begin the questioning until Commander Sisko arrived. Spencer didn’t really deal with Sisko directly very often and he’d always thought the guy was alright. Emissary or not, he cared about the Bajorans, which was more than Spencer could stay for a lot of Starfleet. But now Sisko just looked forbidding. 

“Mister Ross,” Odo said, “Can you please explain the nature of the argument you had with Ensign Urie yesterday evening?” 

Ryan didn’t look unduly concerned at being interrogated, but Spencer knew better than that. Still, Ryan pressed his lips together briefly, and said, “He’d come to look at my wares. I explained that Starfleet officers were not welcome in my shop. We both left and as I was locking up when he grabbed my wrist. I shouted for him to not touch me. He left. That was the last I saw him.” 

“I’m afraid that’s the last anyone saw him,” Odo remarked. 

Ryan shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s too bad. I didn’t have anything to do with it.” 

“Ryan,” Spencer said pleadingly. Odo shot him a warning look, but didn’t say anything. 

“Some of the other science officers mentioned that Ensign Urie had been spending time with you.” Odo looked at Spencer here, and Spencer suddenly wondered just why he’d been allowed to stay. 

“Ryan,” Sisko said, and he had this way of sounding gentle, even though he looked big and intimidating. “We’re not making any accusations. We just want Ensign Urie back safely.” 

“I do too!” Ryan burst out, and looked surprised to have said it. Odo and Sisko looked surprised, as well. “Look, Brendon and I had a stupid fight, but I didn’t mean it, and I just want…” He stopped and composed himself, sat up straighter. Then he said, more calmly, “I didn’t mean it.” 

Odo cleared his throat. “I’m afraid, Mister Ross, that you are currently our only suspect, and that your track record with the Federation is less than stellar.” 

“He didn’t,” Spencer interrupted, and that got Sisko looking at him, too, but only out of curiosity. “Brendon is our friend,” he said. 

“Friend,” Odo echoed, as if the word was foreign to him. Spencer couldn’t blame him. Ryan’s hatred of all things Federation wasn’t exactly a secret to anyone. 

“I’m afraid,” Sisko interjected, “that the Admirals Urie are quite influential. As soon as they’d heard there was a suspect, they pulled some strings and had it arranged to get you out of Bajoran custody and into Federation custody. I managed to convince them to allow you to stay in your quarters under Federation watch.” 

Ryan didn’t say anything, but Spencer knew how it rubbed him to have a member of the Federation telling him what to do. But Ryan just looked at his feet and said, in a defeated voice, “Okay.” 

Perhaps it was out of pity, and Spencer didn’t really care, but Sisko arranged with the Federation guard so that Spencer could come and go from Ryan’s quarters without interference. Spencer wanted to protest that it was stupid, because he knew Ryan hadn’t done anything, which meant that Brendon was still missing and there wasn’t a clue as to what had happened to him. But he knew they were lucky Ryan wasn’t being thrown in the brig, and Odo and Sisko were being reasonable. 

“As soon as I’m off,” Spencer said, when they were about to lead Ryan back to his quarters. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m off.” 

“What if I…” Ryan began and trailed off, looking miserable. “What if because of me…” He shook his head. 

“Got a pretty high opinion of yourself,” Spencer drawled. Ryan gave him a bleak smile. “Ryan, we’ll figure it out,” he promised. 

Laliya came back after Ryan had gone and she didn’t say anything, but Spencer could tell from the expression on her face that she knew what had happened in her absence. They didn’t know each other very well, but when she began to tell him about the crew that had landed, Spencer realised she was trying to distract him. 

“Their captain—Frank, which, I mean, weird name anyway—but their captain, he’s Wadi. It totally works on him. I mean, he’s covered in tattoos, so the markings on his face just seem to fit, you know?” Laliya tended to think that any aliens visibly different from Bajorans looked weird, particularly those with markings, like the Trill or Wadi. 

“Anyway, it is the weirdest crew. They just came out of the Gamma quadrant, but they’ve got two Romulans, and their XO is Klingon.” 

“What were they doing in the Gamma quadrant?” Spencer asked, looking at her data pad on the ship, the _Helena_. It was Beta quadrant in design, but it had never been granted permission to pass through the wormhole from the Bajoran side, which would seem to indicate the crew had found another way into the Gamma quadrant. 

“I know, weird, right?” Laliya said. “That’s why Sisko wanted an investigation. They said a friend gave them a ride, whatever that means. I didn’t hold them—they let us search the ship without a fight and they answered all our questions—it seems their captain just wanted to play some games—you know how the Wadi are—and he’d heard that Quark’s was the place to go.” She laughed a little. “Can you believe it?” 

“Stranger things have happened,” Spencer remarked, and tried to smile. 

Laliya put a hand on his shoulder, but she didn’t try to offer him comfort or reassurance. Spencer was thankful for that. He wasn’t ready to break down yet. He had to find Brendon and he had to get the Federation off Ryan’s back. He couldn’t afford to be anything other than calm and level-headed. 

M

Most of the crew spent their time in the mess hall or on the bridge, with the exception of Nate, who was, like, married to the warp core. Alex basically checked in at the helm every hour or so to make sure the course he’d plotted wasn’t leading them into a star, or something, but other than that, none of them had anything better to do, so they sat around the big, round table in the mess and played card games. 

Brendon was surprised at how readily they’d let him join, even if Victoria did keep giving him scary looks. “She’s Taresian,” Alex said, like that explained everything. Brendon had never even heard of that species. 

At Brendon’s blank look, Gabe said, “The Taresian population is 90% female, so in order to mate, the women infect men of other species with this retro-virus that converts their alien DNA into Taresian DNA. Then, like, three Taresian women marry him and sex him up hard.” Gabe wriggled his brows and licked his lips. 

“You’re going to give Ryland nightmares,” Alex said blandly. Personally, Brendon couldn’t see what was so bad about getting sexed up by three different women. Well, okay, maybe he had three different men in mind, but whatever. 

“And then,” Gabe went on, undeterred by the scowl Alex was giving him, “then when they’ve sucked him dry of all that new DNA and he looks like a shrivelled up old skin, they just leave him for dead.” 

Suddenly, Brendon got Ryland’s nightmares. Also, if possible, Victoria was more terrifying than she had been before. She gave him what he supposed would have been a pretty damn seductive look, if Brendon hadn’t just learned about her mating habits. 

“But don’t worry,” Gabe went on. “Our Vicky’s already taken. And even if she wasn’t, she’s pretty good about not killing the guys she bones. At least, not by sucking their DNA.” 

Brendon was pretty sure he was never, ever having sex again. Which was a shame, because he had some pretty awesome candidates lined up for the job. 

The day slipped by pretty quickly, and at around 1900, Nate whipped them up a meal from his native planet that was amazing. Nate was apparently a gourmet, and the crew usually bribed him into cooking dinner. Brendon had trouble enjoying the meal, though, because thinking about what must be going on at the station made him anxious and antsy. Even if no one had noticed him missing at first, almost an entire day had passed. 

He wondered what Dax must have thought when he hadn’t shown up for his shift—had she thought he was lazy, or had she been worried? Did she report him right away, or was she trying to give him a chance? Did anyone tell Spencer and Ryan and Jon, or did they not even know? Did they think he was avoiding them because of what had happened with Ryan? Did anyone even know the _Cobra_ had docked at the station? Did they think he’d run away, that the stress of being a Starfleet officer was too much? 

Questions swirled around in his head and made him sick to his stomach. Everyone else headed to the holodeck and it struck Brendon that despite the fact that they’d been pretty decent to him, these were still his kidnappers he was hanging out with, and he wasn’t some goddamned damsel in distress. He was a Starfleet officer for fuck’s sake. He was going to act like it. 

Before he could act, he had to do a little research on the ship, and he had to figure out the warp signature so any rescue attempt could locate him. Nate was still in engineering when Brendon came in, but he was just about to head to the holodeck. 

“Hey, coming to the party?” he asked in a companionable way. Really, these people were weirdly nice for kidnappers. It made Brendon nervous. 

“I’m not feeling so hot,” Brendon lied. Well, not lied. Just, misled. “But I was curious. Earlier, when he was giving me the tour, Ryland said something about an alternate source of energy. That you used something other than dilithium crystals?” 

“Oh.” Nate shrugged. “Yeah, something Pete came up with. Guy’s a genius.” Nate waved him over toward the warp core, and as he got closer, Brendon noticed that the swirling patterns within weren’t gas. In fact, they looked like…

“Are those noodles?” Brendon asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice. 

Nate nodded and smirked. “Ramen, to be precise.” 

“You can’t fuel a starship on Ramen noodles,” Brendon pointed out, matter of fact. 

“Okay,” Nate said affably. 

“No,” Brendon said. “No, you really, really can’t.” 

“Okay,” Nate repeated and put his hands in his pocket. “Forgive the ship if it doesn’t stop running just ‘cause you say so.” 

“But—” Brendon sputtered, but didn’t have anything intelligent to say to that. Nate just patted him on the shoulder on his way out of engineering. 

Brendon went back to his borrowed quarters twenty minutes later after all of his poking around in engineering told him, conclusively, that the ship was fuelled by Ramen. How, he had yet to determine, but there was no alternate source of energy on the ship, no sign of the regular nuclear reactor or dilithium. 

The computer didn’t have a password—either the crew of the _Cobra_ was remarkably trusting, remarkably stupid, or remarkably absent-minded. Perhaps some combination of the three. There were several files left open on the screen—something about Risa, warp emissions, and a memo from Wentz, P., that read “remember, I like them in green” and a memo from Stump, P., that read “guys, seriously, can we do this without breaking 37 intergalactic laws this time?” 

All this left Brendon with a weird feeling of unease. He poked around a little to see if he couldn’t find the list of things that Admiral Pete had requested of the _Cobra_ , but the computer was really disorganised. He went back to the task at hand. 

Maybe computers weren’t Brendon’s focus, but he was good with them—he always had been. Professor Driver said it was like he could speak to them, coax them into doing what he wanted. The computer of the _Cobra_ was no exception. He managed to bypass the security mainframe and open a communication channel. Unfortunately, when he searched for a Federation signature towards which to send his message, there were none in range. 

It was a long shot, he knew, but it was all he had. He programmed the message to cycle through every twenty-minutes on a frequency that wouldn’t be detected by the _Cobra_. That meant whoever found it would have to be looking for it, but it also meant Ryland wouldn’t see it right away and destroy it. It also meant it would take a while to degrade entirely. 

He spoke into the comm. link, “This is Ensign Brendon Urie of the Federation outpost Deep Space Nine. I am currently being held on the starship _Cobra_. They have a unique warp signature, which I am including with this communication. It should make tracking the _Cobra_ fairly simple. 

“Their current trajectory is leading toward the Filina system, but I’m not certain what their final destination is. I will attempt to send further communications, however, I cannot guarantee I won’t be observed doing so. If you receive this, I can be reached by tracing this signature and responding on frequency 174.35.” 

Brendon sent the message and sat for several minutes at the desk. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn’t help but hope for a response. When it became clear one wasn’t coming, he triple checked that any responses would bi-pass Ryland’s console and come directly to this one. Then he made sure that it would be silent and hidden, retrievable only at a voice command from Brendon himself. 

It was hard just to wait. Brendon’s mother had often despaired at his level of energy and was forever signing him up for after school activities that would wear him out. At the Academy he’d been involved in three different sports on top of all the extra coursework required to graduate a year early. 

He paced the length of the quarters back and forth for over an hour, took a shower, tried to read three different books and was bored by all of them. Finally, he gave in to the siren call of the holodeck. It had been programmed to look like a slightly claustrophobic basement—stone walls and floors, dim neon lights and the cool that permeated the stone fighting the oppressive heat conjured by lots of barely clad bodies dancing close together. 

There was a DJ’s booth in the back, playing lively, fun music, but it sounded an awful lot like the stuff _The Academy_ had played. Brendon had liked that music, too, but it didn’t make it any less odd that these aliens were playing a lot of Earth music. 

Dozens of people were packed into the room, writhing and sweating, despite the fact that Brendon knew them to be nothing more than holograms. Brendon pushed through them, and he couldn’t help but feel like it was a betrayal—of _The Academy_ , of Starfleet, of Jon and Ryan and Spencer—like he was fraternising with the enemy. 

But Gabe welcomed him with bright eyes and an easy smile. Victoria and Alex danced pressed along Brendon’s back and front and Nate kept bringing him these awesome mixed drinks that were even stronger than the ones _The Academy_ had served, and before long, Brendon forgot to feel guilty. 

Much, much later, Brendon collapsed on one of the sofas that lined the back wall. _Hey Mister DJ,_ the voice sang from the speakers, _you gotta put a record on, yeah_. Brendon couldn’t help but bob his head and tap his toe along to the beat. Ryland came over to sit next to him, handing him a drink. 

“You know,” Brendon commented, trying to sound casual about it, “ _The Academy_ played this same song at a party of theirs.” 

Ryland just arched a brow, but Brendon took that as a cue to continue. “And I think the Butcher might be from the same planet as Nate, and the Butcher said he was from the Delta quadrant.” 

“What are you aiming at?” Ryland asked. And that brought up another question. His British accent. Brendon pointed it out, and Ryland laughed, head tossed back. It was a fake, pretentious sound and it made Brendon laugh along. 

“It’s better if you don’t think about it,” Alex told him later, sincerely. And then proceeded to get Brendon really wasted, until he couldn’t think about anything. 

N

Jon was trying not to panic. He didn’t panic. He was the guy who never panicked. He always convinced everyone else to remain calm and more often than not, he was the one who fixed the problem. Even if he couldn’t fix the problem, he could always find someone who could. It had worked so far. 

Spencer was searching through legal means, so it was up to Jon to go through less than legal channels in search of information. It wasn’t anything new, and besides, he probably looked more trustworthy than Spencer, what with not being in a uniform. 

He’d talked to a Ferengi who’d talked to a Bothian who’d talked to a Human who knew a Romulan who’d heard that a ship from the Gamma Quadrant had docked briefly on the ring the night of Brendon’s disappearance. They’d docked on the station before and had all the proper paperwork and they’d just needed to purchase a few supplies. It was no more suspicious than any of the other ships that’d docked and gone since Brendon’s disappearance, but the fact that so many people were whispering about it made Jon curious. A Bajoran would meet him at Quark’s with more information. 

Quark’s was busier than usual for a weekday afternoon, and it was soon explained to him that a Wadi by the name of Frank had come in, looking for a challenge. Quark hadn’t been too pleased with it, but a lot of people on the station had heard how the Wadi had the best games and had come to see if it was true. 

People were a little nervous about the fact that Frank’s crew consisted of a couple Romulan and Klingon members. Jon didn’t usually care about that and watched with vague interest as they played across the expanse of the bar. If he hadn’t been so worried about Brendon, it might have been neat to join them. 

“You Jon?” A Bajoran appeared at his elbow, sliding neatly into the vacant seat beside him. Jon nodded carefully. The Bajoran ordered a drink from the waitress and Jon waited until it had been delivered and no one was near to speak. 

“You know about the ship that docked here last night?” Jon asked. 

“The captain’s a wild card,” the Bajoran explained. “Rumour has it that he works for a smuggling ring run out of the Gamma quadrant, the Decaydance Corporation.” He passed a data pad to Jon. “Look at it later,” he said, sidelong. 

Jon had never heard of it, but he didn’t want to admit as much. “This ship. What’s it called?” 

“The _Cobra_.” 

Jon sent a message to Spencer immediately, saying they had to talk, and sent a wave to _The Academy_. He was hurrying down the corridor towards Ryan’s section of the habitat ring when a voice stopped him. 

“You’re looking for the _Cobra_?” The man was taller than Jon with a messy tangle of black hair falling to his shoulders, mostly obscuring his face. 

“You know something about it?” Jon asked. He kept the suspicion out of his face and voice and walked closer. The man met him halfway. 

“Gerard,” he said, and flashed Jon a grin and the Vulcan sign for long life and prosperity. Jon found it charming, so he gave his name in turn. “I heard a Starfleet officer went missing yesterday.” 

Jon nodded, waiting. “And you think it had something to do with the _Cobra_?” Gerard pursued. 

“Maybe,” Jon allowed. 

“You friends with this officer?” Gerard asked. He pushed back his hair from his face, revealing an impish smile and nice eyes before the hair fell right back in place again. 

“Yeah,” Jon answered. 

Gerard nodded. “I think I can help you. Our ship is docked at 39. Meet me there at 2200?” 

Jon wasn’t sure why he agreed, but something about Gerard seemed trustworthy, and if it meant getting Brendon back, he was willing to go out on a limb. He hurried on to Ryan’s quarters. The Starfleet guard looked suspicious, but he called Spencer and when Spencer vouched for him, the guard waved Jon through. 

Ryan looked miserable, pacing the floor, dark circles under his eyes, hair limp. Somehow he seemed smaller than usual, maybe because he was dressed in all black. Equally worn looking was Spencer, though he was seated at the window, going through a pile of data pads. 

“What was your message about?” Spencer asked. 

Jon explained about the _Cobra_ docking at DS9, watching as Spencer and Ryan’s eyes went wide with wonder. “I thought it was some sort of joke,” Ryan protested. Jon had, too. 

“There’s this ship, the _Helena_ , docked at 39. One of their crewmembers said he’s familiar with the _Cobra_ and he wants to talk to me tonight.” 

“I’m going with you,” Spencer said, and it wasn’t like Jon was going to argue with him anyway, but Spencer had his arms crossed and his face set like nothing could deter him. 

“I want to go, too,” Ryan said. Jon and Spencer gave him matching looks. “You guys, whatever happened to Brendon, I can’t let the last thing I…” he trailed off. 

“We’ll keep a comm. link open,” Spencer promised. “You’ll hear everything.” 

They were greeted by a tall, skinny guy in thick glasses, with hair shorter and messier and blonder than Gerard’s, but who bore him a passing resemblance. “You Jon?” he asked and when Jon nodded, the guy tossed his head toward the airlock. 

The corridor of the ship was lined in multi-coloured twinkle lights. The guy led them to a mess hall that looked like it had been put together from materials and furniture from a dozen different worlds. The same could be said for the people sitting around the table. 

There was Gerard, who waved at them in greeting. “You’ve met Mikey, our engineer and my little brother. This is his wife Alicia, our comm. officer.” A Romulan woman smiled at them. “Our captain, Frank.” The Wadi, every bare bit of skin painted in tattoos, bounced in his seat and said, “hi!” “Bob, our pilot.” Another Romulan grunted and nodded his head. “And Ray, our executive officer.” A Klingon with black eyes and soft ridges that suggested he might only be half Klingon, smiled in welcome. 

“This is Spencer.” Spencer ducked his head in what might have been taken to be a nervous gesture, but Jon saw the way Spencer was drinking everything in, always the security officer. “And I’m Jon.” 

“And your friend who is listening in on us?” Ray asked. His voice was surprisingly high, and that, coupled with his pleasant demeanour was just weird for a Klingon. 

Also, how did he know they had someone listening? Jon looked at Spencer for a cue on what to do, but Gerard took pity on them. “Ray is half-Betazoid.” Jon was certain he’d heard of stranger crossbreeds, but he couldn’t think of any at the moment. 

“I’m Ryan,” Ryan said over the comm. link. 

“And you believe your friend has been taken by the _Cobra_?” Frank asked. 

“It has to be,” Gerard said, face expressive. “We got the same list they did.” 

“List?” Spencer echoed. 

“Pete,” said Alicia, in an exasperated sort of way, as if the name somehow explained everything. 

“Though some of us like _willing_ participants. Honestly. Didn’t Gabe get Patrick’s memo?” Gerard said. Jon felt that, despite the extenuating circumstances of Brendon’s kidnapping, he was glad to have met Gerard. It didn’t, however, alleviate his confusion. 

“Who are Pete and Gabe and Patrick?” Ryan snapped. Jon could tell it drove him crazy, being forced to just listen from his quarters. 

“Gabe’s the one who’s got your friend,” Bob explained. “And Pete is the reason why he has your friend.” 

“So, wait, you _know_ these people?” Spencer demanded. “So can’t you just wave them and tell them we want our friend back?” 

Frank looked at Gerard. “Well, I mean, it isn’t that simple.” 

“Gabe is after this other ship, _The Academy_ ,” Gerard said. 

“We know _The Academy_ ,” Jon said and he could tell from the way Spencer shifted next to him that Spencer didn’t approve of this free flow of information. Whatever. Gerard had offered to help them when he hadn’t had to, which was good enough for Jon. 

“Yes,” Gerard agreed. “Mikey managed to get a track on their warp emission. We knew that meant the _Cobra_ would follow close behind. Gabe is after William.” He pronounced this as though it was something dire, but he and Frank shared a look and rolled their eyes. 

“I still don’t understand why you can’t just wave them,” Spencer said. Jon could tell from his crossed arms and tense shoulders that he was getting ready to snap. 

“ _The Academy_ was concealing their warp signature from the _Cobra_ and the _Cobra_ is concealing their signature from us,” Ray explained. 

“So, what help are you going to be, then?” Ryan asked over the comm. Jon couldn’t tell, because Ryan had a tendency to always sound bland, but he thought Ryan might be getting annoyed. 

“We can’t track the _Cobra_ , but we can track _The Academy_ , and if we catch up with them, it’s only a matter of time before the _Cobra_ does, too,” Frank said. He got very expressive when he spoke, eyes wide, hands waving. He and Gerard had a lot of the same mannerisms. Gerard was nodding eagerly at everything Frank said. 

“You can come with us, if you like,” Gerard said. 

“The more the merrier!” Frank added, throwing his hands up the air, grin wide and infectious. 

“You guys don’t seem very worried about this,” Ryan said, and sounded wary. 

“Gabe won’t hurt your friend,” Frank said dismissively. 

“How can you be so sure?” Spencer asked. “The guys on _The Academy_ were pretty freaked out when anyone even mentioned the _Cobra_.” 

“Gabe’s a kitten,” Frank said. He had a fond look about him when he said it. “You’re not going anywhere without me,” Ryan said. 

“Ryan,” Spencer began, but a ringing noise sounded through the hall and everyone got up. 

“Time to go,” Gerard said, clapping his hands. “Mikey?” Mikey nodded and head back down the hall to the airlock. “Ray, can you get us warmed up. Bob, go ahead and take the helm; I want to get through the wormhole before anyone notices Ryan gone. Alicia, get on the comm. with Ops and make sure we’re good to go. Frank, you—”

“Mister Way?” Jon looked in the direction of the voice and saw Mikey leading a Trill woman in Starfleet uniform, beautiful and tall, with a playful smile on her lips. 

“Lieutenant Dax,” Gerard greeted, sweeping over to her, taking her hand and laying a kiss on the back. “I’m so pleased you decided to join us.” 

“Your ‘friend’ has my new Ensign,” Dax replied wryly. 

“Lieutenant Dax is there?” Ryan demanded. “What’s going on? You’re not leaving without me.” 

“Frank,” Gerard said. “Can you get down to the transporter room and get Ryan’s coordinates?” Jon was amused that, despite Frank’s title as Captain and Ray’s as XO, Gerard seemed to be the one giving orders on the _Helena_. 

“You can’t just beam him out!” Spencer protested. “Security will have a field to prevent transporter activity in his quarters.” 

Frank wiggled his brows at them. “I love a challenge,” he said, and dashed out of the room. 

“So,” Gerard said, and looked at Jon and Spencer in turn. “You coming?” 

Spencer looked hesitant, and Jon could understand. Breaking Ryan out of his quarters and taking off without warning across the galaxy, who knew where—that couldn’t be good for Spencer’s position as a member of the security team. 

Dax looked at Spencer speculatively. “When we bring Ensign Urie back, the charges against Mister Ross will be dropped. And Benjamin will understand,” she said to him. 

“That’s terrific for you,” Spencer said. “But I don’t answer to Sisko. I answer to Odo. And you might have some sort of weird thing going on with the Commander, but I doubt you have the same sway with the Constable.” 

Jon touched Spencer’s elbow, angled so Gerard and Dax couldn’t see it, but it made Spencer relax a little. “Spence,” Ryan said, voice soft. Spencer looked at Jon; Jon had seen Ryan and Spencer have silent conversations and it took him a second to realise that he was a part of it now, could tell from the way Spencer’s eyes searched his that he was looking for an answer. 

Apparently, he found it. “Okay,” Spencer said at last. 

A moment later there was a loud sound as the docking clamps released and the resultant sway of the ship as it slowly floated away before Bob apparently took control. Frank and Ryan emerged from the hall down which Frank had gone. 

“I better get to my bridge,” Frank said, and was gone to the turbolift with a wave of his hand. 

Gerard watched him fondly and said, “And I better go keep an eye on him on the bridge.” 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Ryan asked of Dax, without preamble, when the crew of the _Helena_ was gone. 

Dax took a seat, all poise. She arched a fine brow at Ryan. “You’re not the only one who cares about Ensign Urie.” 

Ryan scowled. “That’s not what I meant. How’d you get here?” 

“I met Mister Way on the Promenade and he explained his predicament to me,” Dax said. She purposefully wasn’t saying more than was necessary, Jon could tell, because she enjoyed making others draw answers from her. 

“And what predicament would that be?” Ryan asked through clenched teeth. As he’d spoken he’d come closer, perhaps unconsciously, until he’d worked his way between Spencer and Jon, so close they were all touching. 

Dax crossed her legs at the knees and laced her hands atop them. “You mean, you don’t know?” she teased. Ryan’s eyes narrowed and Spencer scowled. Dax laughed. “He told me he had a list of tasks he must complete, and one of them was to bring to his Admiral of the Fleet a Starfleet science or medical officer.” 

“What sort of task is that?” Jon asked, bewildered. 

“And you just _agreed_?” Ryan asked. He looked faintly incredulous. 

“Well,” Dax said, and shrugged. “He explained that he was after the _Cobra_ , and after all, I’m the one who got Ensign Urie the position on Deep Space Nine. I’m _responsible_.” 

She spoke with such mirth. Jon didn’t really know her, but he got the impression that there was very little she took seriously. He wondered how long she’d been alive, if the ease she possessed had something to do with the number of lives she’d lived. So he just asked. “You’re joined, aren’t you?” 

Dax didn’t even look taken aback. She just nodded. Jon ignored the almost betrayed look Ryan was giving him and went closer to where she was seated, taking a seat across the table from her. “So, what number are you?” 

“Eight,” Dax answered readily. “I’m Jadzia, by the way.” 

“Jon,” he answered and took her hand when she offered it to be shaken. 

Jadzia glanced at Spencer and Ryan and said, “I’m not going to bite, you know,” but Jon wasn’t sure that was entirely true. 

Spencer and Ryan kept their distance at first, but Jon knew it couldn’t last. Ryan had to understand about Starfleet, because Jon knew Brendon loved what he did, and Ryan couldn’t expect him to give that up for the sake of their friendship (mostly because Jon thought that Brendon might actually do it, if Ryan asked). 

While Jon didn’t really socialise with a lot of Starfleet officers, he’d met a few here and there that were neat, and Jadzia seemed very interesting. Besides, she’d been willing to leave duty and sit by while Ryan was broken out of confinement, all in order to aid Brendon. 

She began to tell him about her lives, all eight of them, spanning 350 odd years. She didn’t tell them in any linear fashion, jumping from life two to life seven to life one and all around and back again, each story crazier and funnier than the last. She had stories about how her previous host had died after indulging himself with a particularly raunchy night on Risa (Jon didn’t even flinch), raucous parties on Qo’noS, and one hilarious-if kinky-tale about when she’d been an Olympic gymnast and visited Earth, seducing a Starfleet cadet. 

Frank, Ray and Gerard joined them after a while, delighting in Jadzia’s stories and sharing their own and by the time Bob had made them dinner, Ryan and Spencer were laughing along with everyone else, even when it was Jadzia who spoke. Jon just smiled into his hand and knew that eventually, once they got Brendon back, everything would be cool. 

Ξ

Ryan wasn’t an idiot. He knew what Jon was doing, and it was presumptuous and potentially offensive, and oddly, it didn’t bother him as much as it might have a week ago. He knew Jon meant well by it, but liking Brendon was one thing; it didn’t mean he had to like other members of the Federation. Especially not Dax. 

He’d never liked Dax. Of course, he didn’t know her personally, but she was close friends with Sisko and Quark and Kira, so she was always at the bar and station events and she was loud and crass and forward, so even without knowing her, he knew her. 

Still, if he were going to be objective, he would say that his dislike for her stemmed more from her behaviour than her role as a Starfleet officer. In fact, that could be said about his dislike for a lot of Starfleet officers. And while she wasn’t being any less obnoxious than usual, she was being funny about it, and it took some of the edge off his anxiety to listen to her talk about unimportant things. 

The crew of the _Helena_ were neat in ways entirely different from the crew of _The Academy_. For one thing, they weren’t the partiers that Bill’s crew were. It didn’t mean they were any quieter or less chaotic. 

Frank was the loudest of them, bouncing all around the place holding simultaneous conversations with Jon, Spencer, Ryan and Dax about themselves while spilling shockingly intimate secrets about his crew. Being Wadi, he was very eager to discuss games unique to Bajorans, Risians and Trill and to engage his guests in some games on the holodeck, but Gerard managed to convince him to wait until after dinner. 

Gerard and Mikey looked a lot alike, but they were startlingly different in personality. Gerard was animated and gestured a lot with his hands and smiled so beautifully Ryan thought it was a crime he didn’t just smile all the time. He filled in the places when Frank jumped from one conversation to another, his topics of discussion less intimate but no less interesting, ranging from history to politics to the arts. 

Alicia joined in a lot; sometimes she was crude but not in the way Dax could be. Her humour was less threatening, easier to appreciate. Her features were made severe by the facial structure of her species, but being only half-Romulan softened them a little, as did the long fall of silky black hair that framed her face. She was much pleasanter than any Romulan Ryan had ever met. 

Mikey was taller than everyone, but he curled up between Gerard and Alicia and seemed small. Mostly he just watched everyone talking with a blank, almost bored expression, though sometimes he’d smile at something his brother or wife said, a tiny quirk of his lips very unlike the dazzling intensity of his brother. Mikey wasn’t really mean or nice, but he was honest. He spoke little, but when he did, it always managed to shock a laugh out of Ryan. 

Ray liked music and he liked to talk about it and he and Ryan had a great discussion over dinner. Perhaps the crew was just made of contradictions, because Ray was probably one of the nicest people he’d ever met. He supposed it had to do with his Betazoid upbringing, or something, but it was still disconcerting to hear the eager chatter and weirdly high-pitched laughter coming from a _Klingon._

“Klingon and Betazoid…how did that happen?” Spencer asked him while they were awaiting dinner. 

Gerard and Ray shared a look and laughed. “Get that question a lot. It isn’t as strange as you think. I know a lot of Klingon/Betazoids couples. Most of them don’t try to have children, because it takes a lot of effort—they aren’t really compatible for mating, you know? But my mother—she’s the Klingon half of me—she was stubborn and insistent, so, twenty doctors later, here I am.” 

“Thank goodness your mother was so tenacious,” Gerard said. He threw an arm around Ray’s shoulder and squeezed him quickly. 

“But, seriously, and I don’t mean to be offensive, but how did you manage to put this crew together?” Jon asked. “Klingons, Romulans, and…” he looked a Gerard questioningly. Ryan had to admit he was curious, too. 

Gerard laughed, perhaps a little self-consciously and swept the hair from his face up and back, exposing sharp brows, and tucked it behind is ear. His sculpted, pointed ears. He was blushing slightly, green blood spreading over pale skin. 

“Vulcans?” Spencer sputtered in disbelief. “You and Mikey are _Vulcans_?” 

Alicia and Mikey were cuddling together having their own conversation in low whispers, matching, sickeningly sweet expressions on their faces. Ryan stared at them for a long moment, then at Gerard. Two related species known for their mutual enmity, sharing one sofa like a big lovefest. Not to mention the way Gerard freely gave smiles and laughter and had this amazingly expressive way about him that was entirely contradictory to the nature of his people. 

“How is…what?” was all Ryan could manage. Ray and Gerard laughed. 

Jon shook his head, looked amazed. “Okay, now I’m even more curious, because I’ve seen a lot of strange crews in my travels, but yours really takes the cake.” 

“Me and Mikey grew up on Betazed. Our mother is the Vulcan ambassador to the Betazoids. That’s where we met Ray. We all grew up together, but when I reached adulthood, my parents feared I was becoming too emotional, and I was sent back to Vulcan to meditate. 

“I stuck it out for a couple years, but I missed Mikey, and anyway, I was never meant to be all cool and logical and stoic.” Gerard made a face that said just what he thought of that. “So, after I got into yet another fight with my instructors, I stole a ship and decided that my limited experience piloting ships in simulations was enough to get me back to Betazed.” 

Bob chuckled a little from the stove, which made Ryan jump, because the guy had barely spoken and Ryan hadn’t even realised he was paying attention to them. “Yeah, fuck off,” Gerard said amicably to Bob. “Anyway, I ran into a little trouble with the navigation system, and then, when I accidentally crossed into the Romulan Star Empire, well, I learned that piloting while simultaneously firing lasers and fortifying the ships shields was…well…”

“A really fucking stupid idea?” Mikey said blandly. 

“I didn’t _mean_ to cross into Romulan space,” Gerard insisted. Mikey rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that’s when I met Bob. We shared a holding cell on the Romulan ship. He was in there for treason. He’d helped a Starfleet officer escape and, well, it didn’t look good for either one of us—the Romulans aren’t known for their forgiveness towards traitors or their sympathy towards outsides.” 

“So, how’d you get out?” Ryan asked, hanging on every word. 

Mikey flashed them an enigmatic grin. “Pete,” was all he said. 

“Mikey and Ray, completely oblivious to my suffering on Vulcan, had taken a holiday to Risa that ended up lasting, like, six months, and during that time, they met Pete and his crew.” 

“Yeah,” Ray interrupted, “guy was crazy, right, but he was really entertaining. Anyway, everything was cool, and then one day Pete just walks up to us at the pool says, ‘We gotta go. Gerard needs us.’ And I was like, “Did you get a wave from him or something?’ and Pete said no, and I looked at Mikey and Mikey was all up Pete’s ass at that point,” Mikey flashed a rude gesture in Ray’s general direction, not turning away from where his face was pressed into Alicia’s throat. 

“So we went with them, right, and their ship, it was insane. Like, you know what, I can’t even describe it and do it justice, you’ll just have to see yourself. But we travelled with them to the Romulan border and sure enough, Gerard needed our help,” Ray said. 

“How did he know?” Spencer asked. He sounded suspicious. Ryan was glad for it. He was generally suspicious of everyone without good reason, because he sucked at being able to tell about another person’s character and default suspicion was the best way to go to avoid getting screwed over (some part of his brain piped and said ‘yeah, like how you were totally _unsuspicious_ about Brendon, and he turned out to be Starfleet for prophet’s sake). 

But Spencer was really, really good at reading people, and apparently Brendon going missing had something to do with this Pete person and Spencer was on it. It made all the anxiety swirling in Ryan’s stomach sit down and shut up for a minute. 

“Pete’s…” Ray said and looked at Gerard, at a loss, apparently, for how to explain it. Gerard did his hand-wavy thing of his and Mikey shrugged. 

“Pete’s _awesome_ ,” Frank exclaimed. “You’ll see, you’ll meet him.” 

“So, Pete busted us out,” Gerard said. “And when we crossed back into Vulcan space we received a wave from my mother ordering me and Mikey to Vulcan. We didn’t know what we wanted to do, but that sure as hell wasn’t it. So Pete let us all stay with them for a while. 

“We were on the ship when Wolf 359 happened.” Ryan always felt a tingle of horror down his spine when anyone mentioned Wolf 359. He had no love for the Federation, that was for sure, but the Borg were probably the most terrifying thing in the galaxy. Besides, no matter how much he disliked the Federation, he couldn’t wish that level of death and destruction on anyone. 

“Eleven thousand people gone in minutes, like that,” Gerard said, and snapped his fingers. “It was bad. Ray felt it, you know? And I…I sorta gave into some of the darker impulses of my people. When we heard about the Klingon civil war and the attack on Gowron’s ship, Ray wanted to go and help. 

“So Pete gave us a ship.” Gerard laughed a little, like he was still amazed by how simple it had been. Ryan had to admit, if Pete was anything like what they made him out to be, he was probably a pretty awesome guy. “He just gave it to us and didn’t ask for anything in return. He said it was like forming an armada. 

“Bob decided to come with us, because he couldn’t go back to his own people and besides, we all wanted the same thing. We had to help somehow. So we fought in the Klingon civil war, and then we fought in a few skirmishes on the outer worlds, which is where we met Alicia and then we heard about the Battle of New Bajor and we knew, then, that we had to help the Federation against the Dominion. 

“You work for the Federation?” Ryan asked, dubious. True, he didn’t know a whole lot about them, but just from what he’d seen they didn’t seem like the sort who really meshed well with the Federation. Especially since the skirmishes on the outer world had probably been considered acts of terrorism by Starfleet. 

“Not for, so much as…in concurrence with,” Ray temporised. 

“I mean, we all want the same thing,” Gerard said. “No more massacres, period, like the one of New Bajor. Pete took us to the Gamma Quadrant; we saw the effect the Dominion had on the planets there, the civilisations that had been destroyed.” 

“And that’s where they found me,” Frank said happily. “And I got to be captain because I totally owned Gerard’s ass at a game of Chula.” 

“Yeah, you totally cheated at a game of Chula, you mean,” Gerard muttered. “So, we’ve been in the Gamma Quadrant pretty much ever since, collecting information on the Dominion and transmitting it to DS9.” 

“It helps that we’ve got a Changeling and a Vorta on our side,” Bob said mildly. He came over balancing several dishes on his arms and the rest of the crew hurried to help him lay out the plates on the table. He’d mixed cuisines from several of the planets represented by the crew and even made a Bajoran dish in honour of his guests. 

“You’ve got a Changeling on your side?” Spencer asked. He arched a brow. “Are you sure?” 

Ryan knew Spencer trusted Odo with his life, but the fact that he was a Changeling made a lot of people uneasy now that the Dominion had begun their cold war with the Federation. The Changelings were sending the Vorta and the Jem’Hadar on more daring attacks and raids as of late. 

“Pretty sure,” Gerard said drolly. None of the crew volunteered any more information on that subject, though. Frank started bragging about the game of Chula he’d won against Gerard, which was a funny story and had the added benefit of making Gerard sputter indignantly and make all sorts of protestations. 

Ryan enjoyed himself, he did, enough that he even willingly engaged in conversation with Dax. But every few minutes he was taken over again with a wave of anxiety when he thought about Brendon, and how much Brendon would like Gerard’s artwork and how much Brendon would enjoy playing games with Frank. 

Frank did distract them for a long while with his games. He wanted to play Chula but none of his crew were very eager about it and without them there weren’t enough players. “When we get Brendon back, we’ll play,” Jon said in a very matter-of-fact way, like it wasn’t even a question they’d get Brendon back. 

Instead, they ended up playing several strategy games. Jon and Ryan, it turned out, sucked at strategy and began just randomly making moves to screw with everyone else. Spencer and Dax were actually really good at it. Good enough that Frank was even impressed by them. 

Eventually most of the rest of the crew began to head off to bed and as the hour grew late, Gerard kept suggesting that Frank call it a night and Frank kept ignoring him until Gerard whispered something in his ear that made Frank colour red and bid them a quick goodnight, and the two hurried off together. 

Mikey took them on a tour and all the ship had the same eclectic feel as the mess. Gerard’s paintings decorated the walls, along with pictures of the crew on dozens of planets, engaging in various activities. Ryan hadn’t ever had a place he thought of as his own, but if he someday had a home, he wished it would feel like the _Helena_ did—warm and inviting. 

Mikey explained that there were only two free rooms and while Dax offered to share hers with one of the men, they all decided that they could find a way to share the other room. It was small, but cosy and the sight of the bed made Ryan smile. It might fit two comfortably, but for the three of them to manage they would have to lie close and tight together. It was only too bad that there wasn’t a fourth to share the space with them. 

“You can replicate pjs and like, extra pillows and shit,” Mikey said with a wave of his hand toward the replicator. It was the most he’d said all at once the entire night. 

“How long will it take, do you think, to catch up with them?” Ryan asked. 

Mikey shrugged. “It’s hard to say.” 

“But, I mean, the _Cobra_ just left the station last night. They can’t be too far ahead, can they?” Ryan felt woefully uneducated about all things having to do with space travel. He didn’t know about tracking ships or how fast warp speed was, or what any of it meant. 

“Well, yeah, but we’re tracking _The Academy_ ,” Mikey said, like that made any difference. “And Gabe can be kinda unpredictable.” 

They replicated the most basic sleepwear in the computer, lightweight drawstring pants and tight tank tops. The computer seemed to have a personality all of its own, making soft blue ones for Spencer, green ones for Ryan and yellow for Jon, even though they hadn’t requested colours. 

They took turns changing and getting ready for bed in the small refresher room off the main quarters. When Ryan came out, the other two were sitting on the bed and he joined them, knees knocking against theirs as he settled into place. It really was a bed too small for three people. 

Spencer was tense. Ryan could see it in his face, feel it in the set of Spencer’s body next to his. Ryan was glad to know he wasn’t the only one, but Jon seemed as mellow as ever. 

“I can’t stop thinking about it. Bill and Sisky kept saying how dangerous the Cobra was,” Spencer muttered. “But these guys say Gabe isn’t. And apparently they both know Pete? I mean, Gerard and Frank and Ray all seem like really nice people, but what if…what if they’re working with Gabe, or something?” 

“What other choice do we have, Spence?” Ryan asked. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the same concerns running through his head, over and over again on repeat. “Maybe they are working with him, but even if they are, no one else had any clue as to where Brendon was, and right now we just have to get him back. We can worry about them turning on us if and when it happens.” 

“Hey,” Jon said. He laid a hand on each of their knees. “It’s gonna be alright.” His touch was warm through the thin fabric of Ryan’s pyjama pants. It made Ryan’s heart race faster. But then his heart rate seemed to triple when Jon leaned closer and didn’t stop leaning, tilted his head. 

Ryan closed his eyes right before Jon’s lips met his own. He heard the sharp intake of breath from Spencer and fumbled blindly to touch Spencer, too. The kiss was light and fleeting. Jon pulled away before Ryan had a chance to really appreciate how it felt. But Jon didn’t move very far, just turned his head a little and leaned into Spencer, pressing a kiss to his slightly parted lips. 

A day ago, Ryan might have been jealous to watch Spencer and Jon kiss, but now it just made something go hot and thrill high in his chest to see it. Without thinking, he leaned into them both, kissing the place where their lips met. Spencer turned his head and caught his mouth more fully and Jon sat back…but now that Ryan was kissing Spencer, he didn’t want to stop. 

“This is okay,” he murmured into Spencer’s mouth, and he wasn’t sure if it was a question or reassurance, but Spencer nodded and said, breathlessly, “so okay, so okay.” 

He’d never let himself think about doing it, because it was _Spencer_ and he couldn’t mess that up. But Spencer’s lips were soft and he made a surprised sound in his throat when Ryan deepened the kiss and their hands met, clinging. Jon nuzzled at Ryan’s throat, sending tingles of excitement all along Ryan’s scalp. 

The feeling of wrongness caught up with Ryan after a few seconds and he tried to push it aside but it took him with so much force he thought he might get sick. All he could think was that Brendon should be here, too. He jerked away, but Jon was smiling softly at them. 

“Just so you know, I’m going to do that,” Jon said. “To both of you. A lot. And when we get Brendon back, I’m going to do it to him, too.” 

Spencer licked his lips and after a second, he nodded. He was breathing fast and despite the fact that this complicated things _so much,_ Ryan was really turned on by the sound of it. He was hyperaware of Spencer’s hand in his, the way Spencer kept swiping his thumb over the sensitive skin between Ryan’s index finger and thumb and the weight of Jon’s hand on his knee and Jon being so close that his breath stirred Ryan’s hair when he exhaled. 

“O-okay,” Ryan agreed shakily and it earned him a quick smile and another, slower kiss from Jon that made everything around him go quiet and made him feel calmer. 

“Hey,” Jon said, “no worries.” 

Jon didn’t try to take it any further, which made Ryan extremely grateful. Kissing without Brendon already made him feel like they were cheating on him. Anything else would have been too much. All the same, it was really difficult trying to sleep, lying in bed pressed between Spencer and Jon. 

Spencer curled up to Ryan’s back with an arm around his waist, holding him close and Jon lay on his facing Ryan. He kissed Ryan again, sweet and sincere, just like Jon himself, and Spencer’s lips were warm when they brushed the back of Ryan’s neck, and maybe falling asleep like this wouldn’t be so difficult, after all. 

O

The second full day on the _Cobra_ three things happened. Gabe caught The Academy, Pete showed up, and there was a luau. The first took a while, even though tracking _The Academy_ hadn’t been too difficult, because in close range the warp emissions only gave them a general idea of the location of the ship and both ships had cloaking devices. Alex expressed concerning that _The Academy_ was getting too close to base, and once they got there they would be safe. Brendon didn’t know what base he meant, because they were in the middle of nowhere and there was no ship, station or planet in range other than _The Academy_. 

Brendon went on the bridge when he heard that they were closing in on _The Academy_ , hoping against hope that maybe William would somehow outrun the _Cobra_ , or that he’d beat them and rescue Brendon, or something. But after staring at the empty space before them for a long time, Gabe suddenly gave out coordinates and Victoria fired and as easy as that, the invisibility cloak of _The Academy_ failed. 

_The Academy_ was really small compared to the _Cobra_ ; they didn’t even put up a fight. Alex got it in a tractor beam and towed it along. Victoria and Nate went to board the ship. There wasn’t a brig or any holding cells on the _Cobra_ , so the crew of _The Academy_ were bound and were being held in one of the storage spaces on the fourth deck. Their ship was put in the larger of the hangers. Gabe had been rather magnanimous, telling Brendon he could visit the crew if he wished. 

Tony wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Carden and Chiz were handcuffed together around a support beam and the Butcher and Sisky around another, but William was just cuffed at his wrists, not bound to anything. It took Brendon a second to recognise him, because his hair was short and dark brown and he had ridges over the bridge of his nose like a Bajoran. He was leaning against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, head tossed back, and he looked remarkably unconcerned with being held captive. 

Brendon had a lot of questions, but at the moment, all that came out was, “I thought you were Catullan.” 

William raised his head and opened his eyes. “I was. But I thought it was time for a change. And little Ryan just looked so adorable, I thought I’d give the Bajoran look a spin. Why? Isn’t it flattering?” He crossed his eyes in an attempt to look at his own nose. He sighed and before Brendon’s eyes his hair grew out long again, falling over his shoulders in ripples. The ridges on his nose smoothed out. 

“You’re a _Changeling_?” Brendon asked, mixed awe, confusion and apprehension. 

“Uh. Duh,” William said, making a face. 

“But, but,” Brendon looked around at the rest of the crew, but none of them seemed fazed by this knowledge. Of course, they wouldn’t be, if William was going around changing his look on a weekly basis. Come to think of it, had Jon known? “But, can’t you just, you know…” Brendon held up his hands together at the wrists like they were bound together and then pulled them apart again. “Just, like, turn your hands all liquid and pull them out of the cuffs?” 

William looked at him disdainfully. “Uh, that would be _cheating_ ,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. 

“Gabe’s Vorta,” Brendon said. “How did he, I mean, okay.” Brendon had to take a deep breath because there were too many thoughts running around in his head and he couldn’t keep them all straight. “Okay. What are you doing out here, on a ship? Are you with the Dominion?” 

“Ew, no,” William said. He sighed again, then began speaking as if reciting something he’d said a thousand times before. “I am one of the One Hundred. I was sent out by the Changelings into the far reaches of the Delta Quadrant in order to gather information on the species there. Only, yeah, I guess it didn’t work out how they planned, ‘cause I’m not a big fan of this ‘ole universe conquest thing. Where’s the fun in that?” 

“But, then, if you’re not with the other Changelings, is that why Gabe’s after you? I mean, I thought the Vorta were bred to be faithful servants of the Changelings,” Brendon persisted. “Did the Dominion send him after you because you didn’t come back to them?” 

“The Dominion don’t know I’m not with them,” William said. “And Gabe isn’t an original Vorta. He was cloned when his predecessor was dying. And he didn’t turn out quite how my people planned. He didn’t swear fealty to them. They were going to have him put down, but Pete got to him, first.” 

Brendon was really curious, but before he could ask more questions, the hiss of the doors sounded behind him. Ryland came into the room. William’s eyes narrowed when he saw him. “Ryland,” he said, like greeting an old, familiar foe. 

Ryland grinned, all sharp edges. “Bill,” he said. They had this weird stare down for a really long time and Brendon saw the Butcher and Sisky share an exasperated look and roll their eyes. 

“Please excuse us, Brendon, I have a few questions for our visitors.” Ryland’s tone was dismissive so Brendon went. He could always come back later. If there was a later. He had no idea what Gabe planned to do with _The Academy_ , now that he’d caught them. But Brendon was already formulating plans of his own. If he could spring them from captivity, it could be his ticket off the _Cobra_. He just had to be smart about it. 

Brendon planned on going back to his quarters and seeing if he could find some information in the ships computers about how to get _The Academy_ out of the hanger without alerting the crew of the _Cobra_. Only, when he opened the door to his borrowed rooms, he ran into Pete. 

He knew it was Pete when he saw him. For one thing, it was someone he’d never seen before—neither a member of the _Cobra_ nor _The Academy_. For another, he was wearing a Starfleet uniform, only with a few modifications. It was tighter than usual, cut to be more flattering than most. The strip of colour signifying his speciality was bright blue and there were pink and yellow bat shapes with black hearts in their centres. A matching hood was sewn into the back neck of the uniform, which Pete had pulled up over his spiky dark hair. 

“Um,” Brendon said. 

Pete grinned. He didn’t look like an admiral. Well, he had the pips of an admiral on his collar, but he was tiny, and he didn’t look like he was much older than Brendon, and his general appearance didn’t, like, command awe or respect or anything. 

“How’d you get here?” Brendon asked. “Were you on _The Academy_? There aren’t even any other ships around, or anything.” 

“Are you sure?” Pete asked, smiling enigmatically. He shrugged and looked over his shoulder. Brendon followed his gaze and sure enough, outside the window there was a ship. 

Only, it wasn’t like any starship he’d ever seen before. In fact, it looked rather more like a sea ship. A pirate ship, complete with billowing sails sporting the same symbol on Pete’s uniform. The whole thing was encased in a giant glass bottle. It was probably the strangest thing Brendon had ever seen. Also, it totally hadn’t been there ten seconds before. 

Brendon looked at Pete suspiciously, but Pete had the innocent puppy dog look down. “That’s.” He pointed out the window, choosing his words carefully. “That’s not possible.” 

“ _Anything_ is possible,” Pete corrected. “You’ve just let the Federation limit your view.” 

“You’re the one wearing our uniform,” Brendon threw back. “Sort of.” 

“It’s tradition,” Pete said. He didn’t offer any more of an explanation and Brendon wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of asking for more details. He just stared at him. Pete sighed after a minute and waved his hands. “You’re no fun.” 

“What do you want with me?” Brendon asked. 

“All in good time,” Pete said and had the audacity to pat Brendon on the head. 

“Pete, stop annoying the kid,” said another man, who came in from the adjoining bedroom. He was even shorter than Pete, which did great things for Brendon’s ego, because he was used to being shorter than everyone else. Especially with all the giants on the _Cobra_ and _The Academy_. 

Pete made a pouty face, which apparently had no affect on the other guy. “Hey, look, kid,” the guy said to Brendon. He looked exasperated and fond at the same time, watching Pete out of the corner of his eye. “No one’s going to do anything to you.” 

“But,” Pete began and fell silent at the look the guy gave him. 

“We just came by for this,” he continued, and waved a book in Brendon’s general direction. “We’ll get out of your hair now. Right, Pete?” Another pointed look. Pete nodded reluctantly, looking every bit like a little kid who’d just had all his favourite toys taken away and been told he was grounded. 

“See you at the luau,” Pete said as a goodbye to Brendon, before the door closed. 

“Luau?” Brendon echoed, suddenly by himself. 

It didn’t last long. Gabe popped up next. “Just gotta,” he said, and disappeared into the bedroom. There were some strange rustling sounds and a suspicious thumping sound, then Gabe appeared again, arms full of some weird gauzy, see-through fabric. “Yo, get ready for the luau, bro,” he said, and then disappeared out of the room again. 

Brendon had to wonder what the XO would have thought of all these people coming and going through his quarters, taking his stuff. 

Nate was, predictably, in the engine room, though he was dressed in a Hawaiian print button down and khaki shorts. Brendon liked Nate because he was pretty mellow, and also, Brendon was 90% sure that Nate didn’t even realise there was a new person on the ship, and even if he did, he didn’t realise that Gabe had _kidnapped_ Brendon. Nate seemed sort of oblivious of everything that didn’t involve his warp core. Filled with Ramen. What the hell? 

“There’s a luau?” Brendon asked. 

“What?” Nate asked, looking up from his console. Brendon wondered if Nate even knew his name. “Oh, yeah. In celebration of getting back Bill, or something.” He made a vague gesture and turned back to his computer. 

“So, uh, Gabe said get ready?” 

“Just replicate something, man,” Nate said. He looked at Brendon over his shoulder. “You’re from Earth, right? I mean, you know what a luau is?” Brendon nodded. “Good. I gotta go check on dinner.” 

Brendon headed back towards his borrowed quarters, pondering what to wear, when Nate’s word’s finally registered. _Getting back Bill._ What was that supposed to mean? Had they caught William before? Or had William done something to Gabe first to earn his wrath? Brendon had known William first and Gabe had kidnapped him, so he’d just assumed that Gabe was the bad guy in the picture, but what if William had done something awful? 

He took a slight detour back to the storage space/holding cell, but when he arrived, it was empty. Maybe they were already being taken to the luau. Brendon wasn’t an expert on how these things worked, but he thought it was a little strange that the captives might be invited to a party…Of course, he had been, twice now, so he should have known better than to expect Gabe to do anything normally. 

Out of curiosity, Brendon went through the closet, but there wasn’t anything really luau-y. Mostly there were a lot of blazers, fancy button down shirts, random t-shirts and jeans in every wash imaginable, as well as an impressive collection of scarves and bandanas that would make Ryan jealous. Thinking of Ryan made Brendon’s chest feel tight, so he pushed those thoughts aside. 

Eventually he just replicated a pair of Hawaiian print swimming trunks and borrowed one of the less fancy, short-sleeved white button downs from the closet and a pair of sandals that fit. 

Ryland greeted him when he entered the holodeck, hanging a sweet-smelling lei around his neck and making a show of pretentiously kissing him on the cheek. Brendon rolled his eyes, pushing him away. The rest of the crew was dressed like Brendon and Nate, except Victoria who looked lovely with her hair pinned back, a flower tucked behind her ear and who was wearing a brightly coloured wrap tied around one shoulder leaving a lot of bare skin and offering a glimpse of bare thigh when she moved. 

The holodeck was programmed like a beach just after sunset, a strip of orange still hovering on the horizon. The night was purple and full of stars. Lights were strung through the high branches of the palm trees and the noise of the waves against the shore provided a counterpoint for the tropically themed music that was coming from seemingly nowhere. 

“Hi again,” said the guy from earlier, who’d dragged Pete away. He wasn’t really into the theme of the thing in jeans, tennis shoes and a brown t-shirt, but his hat, pulled low on his head, had a hibiscus bloom on it. “I’m Patrick, by the way. This is Andy,” a shirtless Trill whose spots were lost amid the colourful tattoos covering his arms and torso, “and Joe,” who at first glance seemed nondescript, but then Brendon noticed his black eyes, marking him as Betazoid. 

“And the guy over there dancing with Pete and Gabe,” Patrick pointed and Brendon followed his finger, though the three of them were impossible to miss—Gabe, tall and sinuous, Pete tiny and full of energy, and the third, as tall as Gabe, with dark skin and a wild head of curls, the three of them writhing together in a really dirty sort of way and if Gabe’s pants got any lower, it was going to go from vaguely indecent to oh my god Gabe!dick. Brendon wasn’t entirely sure he’d mind that. “That’s Travis,” Patrick said. “Sashi, Matt and Eric are around here somewhere.” 

It turned out they were the crew of _Infinity on High_ , the flagship of Pete’s armada and they were really cool. Brendon was still nervous about this whole ‘being kidnapped for Pete’ thing, but Patrick assured him it was alright, and Patrick seemed like a pretty decent kind of guy, so Brendon tried to relax. 

Shortly after Brendon arrived, so did another flood of people. Brendon was having trouble keeping everyone straight because there were, like, three different guys named Alex, but it was easy to remember the name Cash, and the girl with the long blonde hair was Greta and the insanely hot guy from her crew was Darren, and he was pretty sure one of the other girls was Krystal and Kristina or something, but everyone else was a blur. 

They were the crews of _The Hush_ and the _Cab_ , and they were, despite having too many names, really amazingly fun and awesome. Almost all of them were Humans from Earth, and Brendon spent over an hour talking about fashion with Greta, one of the Alexes, and Pete, and it was incredible. 

Then Cash, another Alex and Darren explained how their crews didn’t really have so much of a hierarchy (no matter how many times Greta declared herself captain of _The Hush_ , and no, no one paid so much attention when the Alex also known as Singer put on a sea captain’s hat and said he was the boss of everyone), and that everyone pretty much did whatever, and somehow it worked. Brendon wasn’t sure how it worked, but he thought it was a neat idea. Though, apparently no one on _The Hush_ actually knew how a warp core functioned, which meant more often than not someone from one of the other ships in the armada had to come help them out. 

Other than the tropical theme, this party wasn’t much different from the one the night before. There were a lot more mixed drinks flavoured like bananas and pineapples and oranges and stuff, but Brendon wasn’t complaining. Dancing was more fun with real people than with holograms, so the added presence of the three new crews made things fun. 

By the time Nate said dinner was almost ready, Brendon was feeling fuzzy from the amount of drinks he’d had, and that was when Gabe got up on the little makeshift podium/gazebo thing where Travis had set up a DJ booth. “Bring in the prisoners,” he bellowed. 

_The Academy_ was brought in. William was still handcuffed, head held high and proud, walking toward Gabe without being led. Tony was right behind him, not bound at all, but the rest of the crew had been tied together with a length of twine, like a chain gang. They didn’t look worried about their fate. In fact, they were mostly (awkwardly because of being tied together) waving at faces in the crowd or slapping hands in greeting as they followed their captain. 

Short of painting William green, everything had been done to make him appear like an Orion slave girl. And, okay, so Brendon had appreciated how ridiculously skinny William was, and how long his legs were, only he really hadn’t until he saw him like this. Gabe’s sudden expedition into his XO’s quarters became apparent, the same gauzy, sparkly, semi-transparent scraps of fabric draped strategically over William’s frame. 

The gauze was twisted into a thick band around his neck, a long expanse left by which one could lead him. It went over one shoulder, then down his waist and around his back, doing little more than decorating his skin. The hollow of his stomach and the fine arch of his ribs were bare to see. His back was even nicer, his spine a sensuous curve, all skin flawless. The wrap continued around his hips low enough to make Brendon worry for William’s modesty, and it was only opaque ‘til mid thigh from where the gauze falls in jagged layers to the ground, showing lots of long, smooth leg. 

William and Tony stepped onto the gazebo with Gabe but the rest of the crew remained below, watching. Gabe went up to Tony, leaning into his space. “Do you concede that we caught you fair and square?” Gabe asked. 

“Ah shit, there wasn’t nuthin’ fair about it,” the Butcher exclaimed. 

“For real,” Sisky added. “You two,” he said, jabbing his finger at William then at Gabe, “were doing your weird slave/master mind thing.” 

Travis wiggled his eyebrows at William, who looked like he was trying not to laugh and hid his face in his shoulder. There were lots of snickers from the crowd. Gabe regarded Sisky and the Butcher like they were something small and insignificant. “Tony?” he asked. 

Tony shrugged. “Whatever. All his whining was starting to get on our nerves anyway,” he said. 

Brendon didn’t know what that meant and he was really at a loss for what the hell was going on, but at Tony’s words Gabe smiled and William made this impressively high-pitched squealing noise. He sort of threw himself at Gabe, bound wrists going around Gabe’s neck, and kissed him. A lot. Very passionately, with lots of visible tongue and grinding, and Gabe’s hands down the back of William’s wrap thing and…

“What the fuck?” Brendon asked. 

“Well, I still think it’s cheating,” Cash complained. “Using his weird ‘you only see what I want you to see thing’ to get Brendon and using his weird Vorta/Changeling connection to get _The Academy_.” 

“Whatever,” Pete said, and rolled his eyes. “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing if you didn’t have his advantage.” 

“Besides,” Andy said, “the _Helena_ has managed to do pretty well and they didn’t use any tricks.” 

“Whatever,” Cash parroted Pete pissily, “you just have some big gay man-crush on Ray.” Andy looked serenely, supremely unbothered by everything Cash said. 

Still, no one answered Brendon’s question. He turned to his other side and asked plaintively of Victoria and Alex, “Seriously, what the fuck?” 

“Pete always likes to put at least one one of a kind items on the list, you know, he says it makes for healthy competition,” Victoria explained. “And this time, that one of a kind item was _The Academy_. So if they had gotten to base uncaptured, they would have gotten to claim themselves.” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Brendon said, and threw up a hand. Victoria regarded it, amused. “You’re telling me that _The Academy_ was part of this game, too?” 

“Well, yeah,” Victoria said. 

“Then why are they all tied up?” Brendon asked. 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Gabe is big on ceremony.” Even as they spoke Ryland was untying the crew, though William seemed utterly unconcerned with his cuffs. Gabe had him pinned up against one of the pillars of the gazebo, and apparently, for the two of them, frottage was something you did on a big stage in front of all your friends. 

“I still don’t understand,” Brendon complained. 

“Okay, thirty second version. Pete picked up Gabe on a planet in the Gamma quadrant, and then he picked up William in the Delta quadrant. The two of them, with Travis, Disashi, Matt and Eric took the _Cobra_. They picked up me, the Butcher, Tony, Vicky, Ryland and Nate. Then Sashi, Matt, Eric and Travis went back to the _Infinity_ , and we kept going until we met Sisky, Carden and Chiz. Then Pete gave William _The Academy_ and we separated into two crews. Only William and Gabe don’t so much like being apart for a long time, so most of the time we just travel together. Or, when Pete issues challenges, Tony will work as acting captain for _The Academy_ and William keeps his place here as our XO.” 

“ _William_ is your missing XO? It’s _William’s_ room I’m sleeping in?” Brendon asked. 

Victoria patted his chest reassuringly. “He won’t mind. He’s not going to be sleeping there any time soon.” They all glanced over to William and Gabe, only they were untangling themselves, finally, and Gabe led William through the crowd to the door. There were whistles and catcalls following them. 

Brendon felt betrayed. _The Academy_ had warned them about the dangers of the _Cobra_ , only, apparently, they were all good friends and that left Brendon entirely without a single person on the ship with which to identify. Not even Travis’ great DJ skills or Pete’s silly faces, or the part where Cash and Joe picked up Greta and used her as a limbo pole cheered Brendon up. Well, maybe a little bit. But only because Greta looked cute sideways and limbo was fun because Brendon was really flexible. But still. 

At some point, most everyone began to split off in twos or threes; he’d known about Alex and Victoria, but apparently Nate was also a participant in that particular relationship. He figured he couldn’t be blamed for not noticing that aspect, because Nate spent more time with his warp core than away from it, and then he started wondering if maybe the three of them had sex in the engine room a lot and vowed not to walk in unannounced ever again. 

On the beach, Sisky and the Butcher were seriously making time and while they still had on their swim suits, there were hands inside of clothing and awkward movements that made it very clear just what was happening. And did these people have _no shame?_

Darren and Monika cuddled up with Chris on a big couch, and Kristine, Greta and Bob were putting on quite a show at the opposite end, which made Brendon wonder if maybe the whole crew wasn’t just one big orgy. But perhaps the most surprising he saw was Pete, almost sort of giving Patrick a lap dance, swivelling his hips and lifting his shirt up a little bit at a time to show off tanned, tattooed skin until Patrick finally grabbed him around the waist and hauled him down for a kiss. 

It was a little much for Brendon to take, seeing all these couples and…well, whatever you called relationships that involved more than two people. For one thing, it was making him uncomfortably horny and there wasn’t anything he could do about that, because while there seemed to be quite a few unclaimed people in the room, he didn’t want that. Seeing all these people made him want Spencer and Jon and Ryan, even if it was only the hugs Jon gave and the sweet, unassuming touches from Spencer and the hesitant, rare touches from Ryan. Even if it was never anything else. 

He had a hard time falling asleep that night. By the time he’d got back to his room he hadn’t even felt drunk anymore. He just sat on the bed, arm braced over the headboard, and stared out at the black beyond the windowpane. He didn’t usually give in to melancholy, but it was hard not to, right now. He just wanted to be home, and failing that, he wanted his friends. 

Π

Spencer woke up slowly, warm and comfortable despite the fact that he was on his back and Ryan was lying almost completely on top of him, his hand clinging to Spencer’s shoulder. Jon had an arm flung over Ryan’s back, hand on Ryan’s hip, but his fingers were brushing back and forth over the bare skin exposed between Spencer’s pyjama top and bottom. It tickled, but in a nice way. 

He opened his eyes and met Jon’s over Ryan’s head. Jon smiled, sleepy and content, his hair flying in all directions. The mark on his forehead glinted dull silver in the starlight. Spencer had been curious since he’d first seen it, and now when he touched it, Jon didn’t flinch away. “Hey,” Jon murmured. 

“Hey,” Spencer said. 

Jon pressed a kiss to Ryan’s shoulder. Spencer liked Ryan’s shoulders, always had, even when he wasn’t supposed to notice things like that about his best friend. He liked the way they were kinda bony but defined, and there was this little dip that led into his collarbone where Spencer had wanted to kiss forever. Except, watching Jon kiss it was nice, too. 

Ryan stirred a little, made a small, happy sound and snuggled closer between them. Jon’s hand moved from Ryan’s hip over Spencer’s stomach and to the bed and he lifted himself up, leaning over Ryan to kiss Spencer. 

“Mmph,” Ryan muttered into the curve of Spencer’s throat. “You’re squishing me.” Every movement of his lips brushed against Spencer’s skin. Spencer made an apologetic sound, but he wasn’t sorry enough to stop kissing Jon, because Jon’s kisses, he was learning fast, were an amazing thing, lazy and intense and wet without being sloppy. 

Ryan groaned and danced his fingers down Spencer’s side, finding his ticklish spot and digging in. Spencer jerked away from the kiss with an involuntary burst of laughter and shoved Ryan back from him, but Ryan just smiled and said, “I wanted my turn,” and replaced Jon’s lips with his own. Ryan’s kiss was deep and possessive, like all those years of friendship somehow translated into ownership. It made Spencer shiver to realise how badly he wanted Ryan and how much he’d ignored that for the sake of their friendship. 

“I like your shoulders,” Spencer said when they parted. Ryan blinked at him like he didn’t know what to make of that, so Spencer just kissed that little dip, just how he’d always imagined. 

The door chime rang and they sprung apart guiltily, but Jon just laughed at them and got up to answer it while they rearranged themselves at a respectable distance. Mikey didn’t seem to notice anything strange, anyway, when the doors slid open. 

“Breakfast is just about ready, if you’re hungry. Though, it’s Gee’s turn to cook, so…” He made a face, perhaps his most expressive so far, that said just what he thought of his brother’s cooking. “Proceed with caution.” 

Spencer wanted the opportunity to talk to Jon and Ryan now that they’d had a chance to sleep on things, because maybe Jon was confident about how things would proceed, but Spencer was mostly confused and worried. If he’d ever thought taking his relationship with Ryan to the next step would be easy, he would have done it years ago. Not to mention throwing in two other people they both had feelings for and were attracted to. 

But Jon and Ryan were already wrestling over who got to use the ‘fresher first and neither of them seemed overly concerned about the state of things, so he decided it could wait. 

When they were clean and dressed they made their way down to the mess. Gerard’s cooking turned out not to be awful so much as strange. “Macaroni and cheese is not a breakfast food,” Ray admonished. 

“I _baked_ it,” Gerard said. 

“Gerard likes to expand our horizons,” Frank explained, as they were eating. It was actually pretty good—lots of different sorts of cheese, crunchy on the top, gooey underneath. “He experiments with the cuisines of other cultures, but sometimes he doesn’t understand what constitutes as breakfast food and what doesn’t.” 

“At least he’s not still on his Klingon kick,” Alicia said around a mouthful. Everyone of the crew—even Ray—shuddered and Spencer was glad he’d missed it. 

“Time is relative in space, anyway,” Gerard said, somewhat peevishly. “I don’t see why we have to limit ourselves by adhering to the social construct of ‘time of day,’ as laid down by the Federation, or whoever.” 

Ryan was nodding his head along like it was something revelatory and Spencer groaned to himself, wondering if this meant Ryan was going to go around changing the time on all their clocks, or write a piece in his paper or something. 

“Smells amazing!” Spencer looked up because that voice was strangely familiar, though not belonging to anyone on the crew. 

“How can you eat anything at all? God, I’m so hung-over.” 

“Wait, _this_ Pete? This Pete is your admiral Pete? They let you have an armada?” Spencer demanded, flailing around a little bit, but seriously. Pete? This Pete? 

“Pete?” Ryan repeated, raising his head. “Oh, hey, Patrick. Pete. Why are you sort of wearing a Starfleet uniform?” 

“You know each other?” Gerard asked, arching a brow. 

“Spencer, you really need to get laid more,” Pete said. “It will make you happier and calmer and a lot less like a scary guard dog, m’kay? I can help in this endeavour.” 

Spencer narrowed his eyes dangerously and both Ryan and Jon leaned in front of him at the same time, which made Pete giggle, hand to his mouth. “Or, apparently, you have enough help.” He helped himself to a plate and began to pile it high with food. Patrick groaned again in distaste and flung himself on to the sofa. Mikey rubbed his head in a mothering sort of way. 

Ryan, apparently, finally put two and two together, because he said, “Wait, Pete! You know where Brendon is!” 

“Saw him last night,” Pete confirmed. “ _Crazy_ parties Gabe throws.” 

“And you’re just letting Patrick keep his hang-over for the fun of it?” Mikey asked in his low monotone, but he was giving Pete a strange look. 

“He’s being a bitch because I wouldn’t put on the uniform,” Patrick told him, and he and Mikey shared a knowing look. 

“If you saw Brendon last night, they’re close, right? Can’t you just, I don’t know, tell Gabe to give him back?” Spencer asked. 

Pete twisted his lips. “That would be cheating,” he said at last. 

“Fuck cheating,” Jon growled. It was startling how angry he sounded because he was, in Spencer’s experience, usually so mild. “We want Brendon back.” 

“All in good time,” Pete said, eyeing Jon like he was assessing him. “You’re still over a day away from the armada.” 

“You know how Frank is,” Gerard said fondly. “Always has to win, and since we knew Gabe was going to get _The Academy_ , we had to get every other goddamn thing on the goddamn list.” 

“Sweet. You got me a Starfleet officer, too?” Pete asked. 

“A willing one, even,” Ray piped up. 

“How novel,” Patrick said darkly, glaring at Pete. 

“How are they a day away if you were with them last night?” Spencer asked. He did not approve of the way the conversation kept getting away from him. 

“I thought you two didn’t even like Starfleet,” Pete said. 

“Brendon’s different,” Ryan said quickly. “ _I_ thought _you_ were in a band,” he shot back. 

Pete shrugged. “Everyone has hobbies.” 

“Your band is your hobby?” Ryan sounded scandalised. Spencer knew how Ryan got about music and Pete and Patrick had always seemed really into their band. 

“Nah,” Pete corrected, “having a fleet is. I mean, I can’t play music all the time. Gerard would get on my case about how I wasn’t being socially responsible, or some shit.” 

Spencer would like to know how that worked, because Pete’s band played on DS9 pretty often, and toured a lot of planets playing, too. It didn’t seem to leave a lot of time to head an armada of ships. 

“Anyway, everyone else is waiting, so you guys could, like, step it up past warp three, don’t you think?” Pete asked of Gerard. 

“Bite us,” Mikey muttered. Spencer wouldn’t have said that to Pete. Pete was likely to actually do it. 

But Frank said, “We’ll be there by this evening. We still have one thing to pick up.” 

The one thing they had left to pick up turned out to be a Silvan glyph stone. Spencer knew, because Ryan had mentioned it once when talking about using it as a stone in his jewellery, that it was a rare antique. 

Pete’s armada or fleet or whatever was waiting at an uncharted space station beyond where any Alpha or Beta quadrant explorers had travelled. Gerard mumbled something about Pete keeping it that way on purpose, though Spencer would have liked to have known how that was possible. He would have also liked to know exactly to where and by what means Pete and Patrick had gone away so quickly after breakfast. When they finally got to this station, and got Brendon back, Spencer was going to demand some answers. 

Three light years and eighteen hours before they reached the empty space was the Paunsel system, composed of six planets, the third and fourth of which were inhabited by the Paunse, a society renowned in the Gamma quadrant for their scientific and archaeological knowledge. They also happened to be the only people in the Gamma quadrant who knew what a Silvan glyph stone was, and one of the few, precious stones was on display in a museum on the third planet. 

Gerard kept insisting on calling the thing a caper and Ray, somewhat uncharacteristically, wondered if the fact that there were only ten of them would prevent them from pulling an “Ocean’s Eleven” and kept quoting and making references to some Earth movie. 

“I thought you said Patrick asked you guys to do it without breaking any laws this time,” Ryan pointed out, when Gerard revealed their intentions towards the stone. “He said try not to break thirty-seven intergalactic laws this time,” Frank explained, stressing the number. “We’re probably only going to break like, two or three, and they’re not intergalactic.” 

“Infallible logic,” Gerard said, deadpan, in an impressive impersonation of his own species. 

“Oh my gods. I broke a prisoner out of confinement, sat back while he was whisked halfway across the galaxy, and now I’m going to be party to breaking and entering and theft. I’m going to lose my job. Odo is going to fire me, and then he’s going to lock me up.” Spencer might have been being melodramatic, maybe, but it was one thing to help some Bajoran smuggle medicine on the station for poor colonists, and another thing entirely to help steal a rare artefact as part of a game. 

“We can, like, knock you unconscious,” Gerard said helpfully. “And tie you up. And then you could honestly say that there was nothing you could have done to stop us.” 

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Dax told him with a mischievous smile. Spencer knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that she was so eager to participate, but, seriously, she was a Starfleet officer. “Live a little, Smith.” 

Ryan, too, was inordinately excited about the plan, even going so far as to offer to provide a distraction and displayed a heretofore unknown (to Spencer anyway) zeal for burglary. 

There was no way Spencer was letting Ryan get involved without being there to make sure everything went smoothly, so in the end, he agreed too. Jon, apparently, was entirely unfazed by the whole situation. But then Spencer remembered at least a dozen stories of Jon’s from when he’d been with _The Academy_ and they’d committed crimes far more scandalous. 

Gerard was really good with makeup and costumes and he knew a lot about Gamma quadrant species, so while they were en route to Paunsel III, he managed to hide the distinguishing features of all the involved crew. After, he made them up to look like a crew of Andorians. 

Spencer felt he looked ridiculous, but Ryan looked eerily beautiful with his pale blue skin, soft pink lips and shining silver hair. Dax, Gerard, Alicia and Mikey all made it look good, too, but Spencer took comfort in the fact that everyone else looked as stupid as he felt. Well, maybe Jon looked sort of adorable. But mostly stupid. 

Being a society interesting in studying other societies, the Paunse people had been exploring the Alpha and Beta quadrants ever since the opening of the wormhole. When Alicia waved them and expressed an interest to sell some Andorian artefacts to the museum, the head curator was more than happy to see them. 

Mikey, Ray and Alicia took care of the actual meeting with the curator. Ray was really excited to get a chance to play a role and even though he hammed it up a little, the curator fell for it. 

Ryan was perfect for distracting the tour guide the curator had assigned to the group. Gerard had explained that before they sold the artefacts they wanted to see the facility. Ryan played the part of the curious, somewhat clueless protagonist to Gerard’s overbearing know-it-all and Dax’s plucky, contradictory for the sake of argument scientist. Between the three of them, the woman was falling over herself to answer questions and correct assumptions (not to mention trying to score a date, though with which of the three of them, Spencer couldn’t say for sure). 

Lingering behind the four of them, Jon, Spencer, and Bob were able to get the lay of the land. Spencer was glad Bob was on their team because he was big, and sure Spencer didn’t know him all that well, but he got the impression that he was a competent guy. He and Bob had gone over the blueprints of the museum before going down to the planet, finding all the entrances to the room that housed the stone. 

The stone was guarded by a force field, and that was where Frank came in. He’d thrown a fit about being left on the ship and tried protesting, “But I’m the captain!” However, in the end, he’d been forced to admit that he was the best with a transporter and the switch had to be made quickly. 

Ryan shot them a look when they arrived in the room, then made a big show of noticing a sculpture through the archway into the next room. Gerard hurried forward making bold statements about its origins and Dax countered them, listing off the reasons he was wrong. Their tour rushed along behind them, trying to correct them without offending anyone. 

Bob followed them as far as the door and then stayed there to keep watch. Spencer took the entrance from which they’d come and Jon positioned himself between the camera and the display, bending over it as if intent on studying it. 

Alicia had put together a neat comm. device that resembled an earring. It was completely hidden by Spencer’s hair anyway, but if someone did catch a glimpse of it, it wouldn’t raise any suspicion. Now he reached up, pretending to fiddle with it, and tapped the button in the centre of the device. 

From his point of view, Spencer couldn’t see the stone disappear and be replaced with the replica, but a few seconds later Jon straightened up. On cue, Bob wandered on after the others and Spencer followed behind with Jon. His face didn’t betray anything, but Spencer could tell by the sparkle of his eyes that everything had gone as planned. 

The funniest part was that they hadn’t wanted to risk selling a fake Andorian artefact, and they just so happened to have an antique chest from one of Pete’s previous games. So not only did they manage to get away with the Silvan glyph stone, but they also got a handsome payment for an object they’d originally stolen from the Andorians. 

Spencer had never wanted to live a life of crime, and he still didn’t. He hadn’t joined station security because it was convenient; he’d done it because he wanted to help people. Still, he couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline he got when they stepped out of the museum, not quite free and clear. Even once they were on the ship his heart was still beating faster and his stomach kept flipping. And. It felt good. 

“That was _so much fun,_ ” Ryan said in a quiet, awed voice while Bob and Gerard were preparing a celebratory lunch. 

Ray and Mikey had set a new, more direct course for the Pete’s station and stepped up to maximum warp, which meant they should see Brendon in a little over six hours. And Ryan looked pretty with the blue make-up blurring around the edges and his hair still silver-tipped, falling in his eyes. Jon chuckled near Spencer’s ear and Spencer said, “Yeah.” Then he grinned, hanging his head. “Yeah it was.” 

Jon leaned into his shoulder, face close enough to kiss Spencer’s neck and Spencer put his hand in Ryan’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss. It made the thrill of stealing seem weak in comparison, shivers running up and down his spine. 

When they pulled back, the crew had the decency to pretend they hadn’t noticed the little group display of affection going on in the corner. Only, the idea of them being seen didn’t bother Spencer so much. In fact, he _wanted_ them to be seen. He _wanted_ people to know. His hand tightened convulsively around Jon’s shoulder. 

People knowing meant that if it didn’t work it would be that much worse. That was a large part of why Spencer liked to keep his affairs to himself. Not even his parents had known about the last three girlfriends he’d had, only Ryan. Of course, he’d already waved his parents to tell them about Jon and Brendon. Even though he’d only mentioned them as friends that had to mean something. 

Spencer didn’t want to think about what that meant, this weird, possessive, demonstrative streak. But it didn’t make him take his arms from around them, or keep him from laying his head on Jon’s soft hair. 

Ρ

Pete’s station was like something out of every amusement park ever. The decorating scheme was…not so much, just random colours and patterns and furniture and art that didn’t match at all, but somehow worked together. There were five decks of rooms and ostensibly they were assigned to various members of the fleet, but everyone kind of just moved around as they pleased. Brendon figured that might have something to do with the large amount of sex going on between the various crewmembers. 

On the upper most deck was a large open space that managed to look as though it were outdoors on a mild weathered planet, though it was not a holodeck. The ground was mostly pale blue grass of a moderate length, though there were plenty of wildflowers, smooth pebbles lined the shorn, even grass of the putt-putt golf greens that stood to the side of a large playground. There was a pool that had been styled to resemble a lake, complete with sand on the shores and a wooden dock extending into the gentle ripples. 

The ceiling was a huge view screen that had been programmed to behave like the sky, giving off light and heat during the day and moon and star shine at night. It was random, with clouds and scattered birds. Vents around the room gave off faint breezes, stirring the leaves of the trees and bushes that lined the walls and stretched high above. 

Brendon was given a tour of the entire station, including the Promenade like area with it’s arcade games, seven differently themed bars, and a snazzy fashion shop (all clothing designed by Pete, occasionally with assistance from Travis, Victoria or William). He’d also been introduced to more members of the fleet who generally stayed on the station, making sure things ran smoothly and taking care of security issues and the like. Jamia was all business, Brian was hot, Worm was funny, and Zach was very cuddly for such a scary looking guy. 

Most of the _Infinity_ , _Cobra_ (minus Gabe who was attached to William at the hip), and _The Hush_ crews had stayed on the main deck, but _The Academy_ , and the _Cab_ had flocked to the lower most deck, which was the largest by far and housed, to Brendon’s disbelief and amazement, an actual zoo. Pete claimed there were over 16,000 different animal species from all over the universe. Brendon hadn’t really believed it. He was inclined to believe he was on a holodeck. Pete said it was 7,000 acres, and Brendon didn’t care, because there was no way the station was that big. Like, even a fraction of that size. 

But when he’d tried to challenge it, Pete just got his big grin. “Remember how you told me my ship wasn’t possible?” He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet like he wanted Brendon to argue some more so Pete could prove him wrong. And Brendon was really bad at not reacting when provoked. 

“Whatever. We both know that was an illusion. Just like this place,” Brendon said. 

“Ooooh _really_?” Pete drawled. He made this weird flourish with his hand and all of the sudden Brendon was actually _on the deck_ of the ship in the bottle. For a second he freaked out, because from within it looked like he was in open space. Only, he didn’t implode and he could still breathe, but…

Brendon walked along the deck, the wood echoing under his heels. Beside them, the space station loomed and a plank extended from the ship to the neck of the bottle, disappearing into the docking bay. 

“How did you…” Brendon wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask. “How the hell did you make us—I mean, that wasn’t a transporter that brought us here.” 

“No,” Pete agreed. “ _I_ brought us here.” He looked quite pleased with himself. 

“I don’t understand,” Brendon said. He wasn’t being wilfully stupid. It just didn’t make any sense. “How?” 

“Because I wanted to. Like, say I wanted to fly?” Pete said, and suddenly he was floating above the deck. “Or maybe you’ve always wanted to be in outer space. Like, actually be there, without the ship or the suit or anything between you and the black, even though you knew you couldn’t survive it, and sometimes you just don’t care?” 

Brendon had never said anything like that to anyone, because he was worried it might sound suicidal, even though he’d never _do_ actually do it. Only Pete waved his hand again and the glass bottle disappeared and it was suddenly blindingly dark and cold. Distant dots of stars on ink black were like needles driving into his eyes and all the oxygen went from his lungs. Everything pressed in and Brendon remembered the lectures he got on what happened when you’re exposed to the black, in what order. 

Then Pete touched his hand and the glass didn’t come back, but Brendon could breathe again, or, well, he didn’t need to breathe anymore. And the cold was still there, only he felt disconnected from it. The only thing that was real any more was the oppressive force of blackness all around him, swallowing him. 

It was gone almost as quickly as it came, and they were standing in the zoo again, where it looked like the outside and there were animals from hundreds of planets and the warmth after the cold left Brendon sweating. That fact, along with the sudden inability to breathe quickly and deeply enough let him know he hadn’t just hallucinated it all. 

“Who are you?” Brendon panted. 

“I’m Pete,” he said. “Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name.” 

Brendon couldn’t help the breathless puff of laughter that got out of him. Pete, all these people, and their fucking weird obsession with 20th century Earth music. “Well, see, Pete, what’s puzzling me is the nature of your game.” 

Pete threw back his head and laughed. “See, look, I knew this would be awesome,” Pete said. “You just have to learn how to appreciate it.” Brendon still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be appreciating, but he got, with sudden, perfect clarity, that Pete wasn’t trying to hurt him, and that when this was all over, Pete would make sure he got back to DS9. 

Then, using his finger like it was a pen, Pete began to draw on the air, leaving green, wavering lines behind. He spelled out _Pete Wentz_ and then said, “I don’t have any really lame anagram,” and oh my god, Brendon might have fallen a little bit in love with Pete for quoting the Rolling Stones and referencing Harry Potter all within the same five minute span. He flicked his fingers and the letters began a little dance. But instead of rearranging themselves to form other words, they bent to form a circle and wriggled a bit, until the single letter Q hung in the air. 

Brendon felt his eyes go wide and he looked from Pete to the Q and back again. “You’re…you’re _Q_?” he gasped. 

“I’m not _the_ Q. Not like you’re thinking. I’m not the one Starfleet warned you about, anyway. I mean, we’re both Q, but I’m Pete. And he’s Q,” Pete said and Brendon had a little trouble following it. “He likes annoying Starfleet captains who won’t sleep with him and leading mini-coups in the Continuum and then reforming and doing the whole thing over again. I have way more fun than he does. Anyway, Brendon, I have a proposition for you, but I think it should wait until your friends get here,” Pete said. 

“My friends?” Brendon repeated. Did Pete mean Starfleet? Or could it be, possibly, that Spencer and Jon and Ryan had actually come after him? The mere thought made hope and something stronger flutter in his stomach. 

“They’ll be here in a few hours. In the meantime…” With another flourish of his hand, Brendon was suddenly holding the biggest mai tai known to mankind. “You know, drink and be merry. And no matter what Mikey says, don’t try to ride the unicorn, okay?” Brendon wanted to ask who Mikey was, but Pete was gone in a flash of light before he had the chance. Then what else Pete had said caught up with Brendon and he exclaimed, “There are _unicorns_?” 

So, Brendon drank and was merry. It was easy when William was hilariously terrified of giraffes and Gabe had to be dragged out of the reptile house after making one too many (read: his billionth) snake as a metaphor for his penis jokes. Cash had to be told multiple times not to climb into the cages with the animals, no matter how cute and fluffy they were, and then Chiz had to be pulled away from a boxing match with some kangaroo-like creatures from Epon Prime. And, it turned out there were indeed unicorns, in silver and white with gold and iridescent horns. They frolicked about, never letting any of the visitors get very close. 

It also didn’t hurt that there were cabana boys inexplicably all over the place who were only too happy to come along and replace their drinks just as they were about to finish them off. Brendon didn’t question it. Q. 

They didn’t get to see the whole zoo, which William patiently explained was impossible, because Pete was forever adding more specimens from his latest expeditions. Sisky had the idea that Pete did it on purpose just so no one ever _could_ see the zoo in its entirety. Brendon was beginning to get that Sisky was a little paranoid, though. Luckily, the Butcher just petted Sisky’s hand and gave him an ice cream cone, which successfully distracted him. 

No matter how much fun he had at the zoo, and later swimming in the lake with Greta and Bob, and later playing with vintage arcade games, no matter how much alcohol Pete plied him with to make him mellow, the buzz of anxious anticipation remained in his stomach. Because they were coming. For him. He kept checking the clock, forever dismayed to find that only a couple minutes had ticked away. Until, at last, Andy announced that the _Helena_ was approaching. 

Brendon wasn’t the only one excited. Apparently whoever these guys were, they were popular, because there was a mad rush around him. The fleet readied themselves and the station for the arrival. Pete even did a little hand flourish and actually made himself a mostly respectable uniform. Well, more respectable than his pink and yellow and blue bat suit thing, though he ended up resembling a pirate captain straight out of the 17th century, complete with huge feathered hat. Brendon thought, at least Ryan would like it. 

Then the _Helena_ docked and Pete made everyone stand aside so that Brendon could get to the airlock. He was so excited and more than a little drunk that he couldn’t stand still. He didn’t even know what exactly had happened between him and Ryan the last time they’d seen one another, but apparently it didn’t matter, because Ryan was here. 

The airlock hissed open and suddenly standing was an issue, because in addition to being drunk he had a very fierce Ryan thrown at him. Jon and Spencer followed more sedately, but they kept him and Ryan upright and their arms held him just as tight. Ryan’s mouth was somewhere in Brendon’s throat, but when he whispered, “I’m sorry. Brendon, I’m so sorry,” Brendon heard him perfectly. 

Brendon squeezed them all tighter and pressed a kiss to the hair on Ryan’s temple and maybe that was crossing some boundaries, but he wanted Ryan to know it was alright, that he’d already been forgiven. Besides, Brendon had been worried and confused, but not angry. 

Only then he saw Dax coming out of the airlock and stiffened in their embrace. “Lieutenant!” he exclaimed. His body snapped to attention despite the added burden of three extra sets of limbs. Ryan went equally tense and dropped his arms from around Brendon, stepping hastily back. The look on his face was the same as it had been when he’d last seen him, closed and hurt. Apparently hugs and kisses and sorrys weren’t enough. 

“At ease, Ensign,” Dax said, in that easy way she had that made him wish she wasn’t so much higher ranking than him, because it made having conversations with her awkward, especially when he got excited. “I’m not here in an official capacity.” 

“That’s right,” the Vulcan behind Dax said, and made a face at Gabe. Which was weird, because, well, _Vulcan_. 

“Whatever, dude. So you got a Starfleet officer. So did we. And ours is a dude,” Gabe said derisively. “And, we got _The Academy_. You are so totally owned.” 

The tiny tattooed guy beside the Vulcan looked like he was getting ready to throw himself physically at Gabe and engage in some serious violence. The Vulcan laid a hand on his shoulder in restraint and smiled placidly. “We shall see.” 

“Yeah, you better win,” Spencer said darkly. Brendon felt warm all over that Spencer still hadn’t entirely stopped hugging him. He’d loosened his grip so he was more just draped over Brendon’s back. Jon had shifted so he was sort of holding Brendon’s arm but had a hand on Ryan’s back, too. It was nice, though it would have been nicer if Ryan were touching him, too. “I’m not going to have been involved in a museum heist for nothing.” 

“You were involved in a museum heist!” Brendon exclaimed. “Without me?” 

“There are many things,” Dax said slowly, “that have happened for all of us, that I’m sure we will never discuss with anyone else on Deep Space Nine, ever.” Spencer and Ryan nodded their heads solemnly, but Jon wore a little smirk. 

Brendon was so curious. Everyone was super cool, but he just wanted to get Ryan and Jon and Spencer alone and just talk. “Do we get to go home now?” Ryan asked. He looked weary. 

“Ross…Ryan,” Pete said and sidled up to him. “Don’t you trust me?” 

Ryan eyed him. “Pete. I trust you, like, as far as I could throw you.” 

“You could probably throw me pretty far,” Pete said in a charming, wheedling sort of way, all playful, batting eyelashes. Ryan didn’t seem impressed. Brendon realised they were talking like two people who knew each other and now he was _burning_ with his curiosity. “Anyway, you guys can’t go anywhere yet, because Joe and Travis have to tally the scores and then we have a big party.” 

“Which differs from your other parties _how_?” Brendon interjected under his breath. 

Pete scowled at him. “Everyone’s here now. So, party. And then, my precious panics…my darling, pretty, odd boys…” Pete sounded like he was talking nonsense, but he had this look like he could see something no one else did. “Then we have to talk.” Ryan and Spencer squirmed at the attention. Brendon, however, was learning that maybe he should trust weird, wacky Pete. 

“How long will it take to tally the points?” Brendon asked, fishing. Pete smirked. 

“Plenty enough time, I think, for you to show your little friends your room.” 

Brendon was torn, because even if he wasn’t on duty and Dax wasn’t there as a representative of Starfleet, he still felt weird just taking off without her. But Pete mentioned his zoo to her and her eyes lit up and the whole crowd from the _Helena_ followed as Pete led her off, the other Vulcan of the group exclaiming “Unicorns!” 

“Come on,” Brendon said, giving them a tour of what they saw only on the way to his quarters. Because they really needed to see all of the station and everything, but right now he just wanted to be close to them and talk. He knew it was ridiculous because they’d only been apart a couple of days, but with the stress of being kidnapped and everything, it felt like a lot longer. 

Jon took his hand as they walked and after some weird looks between Spencer and Ryan, Ryan took his other hand. He jumped in surprise at it, because Ryan still didn’t look very happy, but Spencer got this private little smirk at it. 

“I can’t believe you guys came after me,” Brendon said. 

“Are you kidding?” Spencer demanded, and he sounded a little pissed. “You think we’d just leave you to fend for yourself after being kidnapped?” 

Brendon felt bad for upsetting him, but he couldn’t help it. People didn’t just go off gung-ho after potential kidnappers. That was what the Federation was for. “How did you even know where to find me?” 

Spencer gave him a look like he was a moron. “I _am_ a security officer, you know. And Jon has contacts.” Jon nodded in agreement. 

“But why did you _go_ with them?” Ryan exploded, and Brendon was glad they were almost to his quarters. He hurried them in even as Ryan went on. “Did I…Was it because I…How did they get you?” he finished at last. 

“Ryan, no,” Brendon said, and dropped Jon’s hand to take both of Ryan’s. “Gabe, he has this weird hypnosis thing where he can make you think you’re seeing something that isn’t there. He makes you see the thing you _want_ to see. And he used it on me, then Ryland hyposprayed me and they dragged me onto their ship, and by the time I woke we were already long through the wormhole.” 

Spencer had nice long, cold fingers, and he pressed them too. “I’m going to kick this Gabe guy’s ass,” he said, voice low and even. And then, to Brendon’s immense surprise, Spencer replaced his fingers with his lips. Brendon felt his eyes go wide. 

Before he could express his surprise, Jon put his hand behind Brendon’s head and pulled him down into a kiss. He made a sound of muffled surprise against Jon’s lips, but Jon just kissed him deeper, more insistently. Spencer bit gently at Brendon’s neck and Brendon sort of wilted under the onslaught, parting his mouth to Jon, sagging against Spencer. He clenched tight to Ryan’s hands and Ryan squeezed back. 

“What?” Brendon began, when Jon let him go. He was sort of dazed and couldn’t really open his eyes very far, but then Ryan stepped into Jon’s place and wrapped his arms around Brendon’s neck. 

“Brendon,” Ryan said, very seriously. “We have to talk. I have to tell you why I…why I said what I did.” 

“It’s alright,” Brendon reassured him. He so didn’t care. Not anymore, because apparently whatever it was had passed. 

“It…it isn’t,” Ryan said. He paused, mouth open, eyes down, obviously trying to find his words. “Brendon, I wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t mean so much to me, and I wouldn’t…What we’re all doing…” 

Ryan looked helplessly at Jon and Spencer and Jon kissed him light and quick on the lips while Spencer stroked a hand over his cheek and wow…Brendon had maybe sorta realised what it meant that everyone was touching _him_ , but seeing them touch Ryan drove the point home. 

“What we’re doing, I never would…I mean, you three are. I want you to understand, so that when I get stupid again, because I will, I don’t want you to go away again,” Ryan finished, blushing at the admission like it was something to be embarrassed by. 

“Ryan.” Brendon finally let himself touch Ryan more intimately, hands falling to Ryan’s hips, pulling him close ‘til they were flush against each other. “Ryan, I didn’t leave willingly. And when Gabe took me, I was on my way to see you. In fact, Gabe made me think I was seeing you. You can’t drive me away. I mean,” he added, grinning sheepishly, “not that I want you to try.” 

Though he looked on the verge of tears, that made Ryan laugh a little. His hands toyed with Brendon’s hair and he tugged, just gently, but what he was asking was clear. Brendon wouldn’t deny him, couldn’t deny him when he wanted it just as much. He tilted his head and closed the space between them. 

And, _god,_ Ryan’s kiss! It was sweet, and hesitant, his lips moving slowly like he was mouthing words into Brendon. Brendon’s hands clenched tight on Ryan’s hips and tried to say with his kiss just how much he’d meant what he said. Ryan made a soft sound and made Brendon rub their hips together, and he felt Ryan going hard against him. He opened his mouth and Ryan reciprocated at once and then he forgot about trying to say anything with the kiss except _want_ and _please_. 

“Brendon,” Spencer murmured in his ear. He stroked a finger down the side of Brendon’s neck, sending shivers down his spine. “Brendon.” His voice was coaxing, fingers carding through Brendon’s hair. 

Maybe it was criminal that he hadn’t kissed Spencer yet. His lips parted from Ryan’s with a wet sound and Ryan’s eyes were glassy, his cheeks flushed, his lips glistening from Brendon’s mouth. Brendon would have felt it a shame had no one kissed that mouth, so he was glad that Jon did it, leaving Brendon to Spencer. 

Brendon had never been, despite what his mother said, a greedy boy. He’d never expected or even hoped to be in this sort of situation. But having three different men who kissed him in such delightfully different ways…perhaps he would quickly become spoiled. 

Spencer was all sharp teeth and quick slips of his tongue and soft, soft lips that curved into a devious smile when Brendon moaned. He half turned, taking one hand from Ryan’s hip to pull Spencer closer to them. Jon was pressed into Brendon’s thigh, and they were all hard and he could feel all of them. 

“What are we doing?” Brendon asked, dazed, when Spencer left his mouth to suck on his neck. “Oh my god, what are we doing?” He wasn’t worried so much as filled with disbelief. 

Jon stopped kissing Ryan to murmur, “It’s alright, Bren,” and then he was kissing Brendon again and it was dizzying and unbelievable, except Brendon totally believed him that it would be alright. In fact, if the way Ryan was moving his hips in tight circles against Brendon’s were any indication, it would be a lot better than alright. 

He was about to suggest moving to the ridiculously large bed (Pete had said something about facilitating orgies when Brendon had commented on it—now he had to wonder if Pete had actually been joking), when the comm. chimed. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Travis’ voice called, and Brendon guessed it was a station wide announcement. “We have a winner.” 

“Party on the upper deck,” Pete cut in. “And yes, that means you guys, too, Brendon.” 

“What did he—?” Ryan began, but Brendon shook his head. 

“I’ll explain later.” Then, Brendon looked at all of them and said, hoping they got his meaning, “Later.” 

“Later,” Jon promised him, and Spencer hugged him and Ryan kissed him. Later was going to be a very good thing. 

Σ

Jon tried to have a serious talk with William about how it was entirely inappropriate and irresponsible to let his boyfriend kidnap Brendon, but William had just laughed at the notion that anything he did was supposed to be appropriate or responsible and then went off to basically hump said boyfriend in public. 

Of course, Spencer had followed William over and they were far enough away that Jon couldn’t hear what he said, but he saw the way Gabe’s face lost all colour. Spencer poked a finger at Gabe’s chest and threw a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of Brendon, Jon and Ryan and Gabe nodded his head emphatically. Spencer looked slightly mollified at that and with a last, threatening gesture and a dirty look, he came back over. 

“My hero,” Brendon said, voice falsetto, and clasped Spencer’s hands to his chest. Spencer rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he muttered, but his cheeks went pink. Spencer, Jon thought, was the most charmingly contradictory person he’d ever met, and he loved it. He loved him. He pressed a little kiss into Spencer’s jaw. He’d only fallen in love once before, and it had taken him a long time to love her and it ended badly. But he didn’t care how sudden it was, to fall in love with three people over the course of little more than a week. They would make it work. 

Pete came out on the dock of the lake, and yeah, by the way, this place was pretty damn awesome. He managed to make his voice carry over the large space without a microphone and everyone fell silent as he began to speak. 

“Despite Patrick’s limitations on this quarter’s game, you guys managed to bring me some cool shit.” Jon didn’t think it was just his imagination that Pete was looking their way. “It was a close race; if _The Academy_ had got here a little more quickly, they would have taken it by a landslide. And while the _Cobra’s_ capture of _The Academy_ was impressive, I must announce that this quarter’s winner is the _Helena_ , who took the lead by being the only crew who came back with a photo of a Ferengi woman in clothing.” 

For a second, Jon was worried that the mere mention of the photograph would lead to a repeat performance of Gerard’s rant about the objectification of women on the Ferengi home world and Jon would never get to have a foursome because he’d die of boredom first. Of course, no matter what, it couldn’t be worse than the lecture Gerard had given everyone when they’d realised Jon was a Risian. No one had given him any shit, but Gerard had gone on for over an hour about making assumptions about someone’s sexuality based on their species, at which point Frank had coughed something in his hand about a threesome, but it was funny and (mostly) true (since Frank didn’t know about Brendon), so Jon didn’t really mind. 

Gabe saved everyone from that eventuality when he began bitching almost immediately and Gerard threw back his head and laughed. “What do they win, anyway?” Jon asked of the girl Brendon had introduced as Monika. 

“What, you mean besides the opportunity to rub it in Gabe’s face?” Monika asked. “It means next time they’re ‘it.’” 

“’It?’” Spencer echoed. 

“ _It._ You know. ‘Tag, you’re it.’ This time it was _The Academy_ because they won the last round,” Monika explained. 

Brendon’s brow furrowed. “But, the person who’s it chases everyone else.” 

Monika shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t think anyone cares what it’s called.” 

Jon would have liked to be back in the room with his boys right now, but all things considered, the party was wild and fun. Someone was grilling out and there was ample booze and lots of yummy food. The music varied between recorded, coming from the DJ booth, and live, when Greta or Pete or William or whoever would get up on the dock and use it for a stage. Jon didn’t know where all the musical instruments had come from when he wasn’t looking, but _damn_ Greta could sing, and it was such a powerful voice for such a little body. 

Piñatas were dangling from some of the trees, and mostly everyone had already had something to drink so no one was swinging with accuracy, but made up for that fact by swinging really, really hard. 

They joined Sisky, the Butcher, Alex and Nate in a few games of cards, but the more freely the alcohol flowed, the more difficult it became to grasp the rules. Brendon tried to teach them how to play Old Maid, because he said it was the easiest card game ever, but Sisky couldn’t seem to comprehend the rules, and no matter how many times he was told not to, always announced it when he got the Old Maid. Eventually, Brendon just gave up and taught them another game called Asshole, at which they were all even worse, but which got them even drunker, so no one really minded. 

After food, everything sort of quieted down a bit. The _Helena_ laid themselves out on the shore of the lake, chatting and idly drawing things in the sand. The _Cobra_ \+ Bill had somehow miraculously managed to fit their entire crew in one giant hammock in one massive cuddle pile. The remainder of _The Academy_ were swimming with the _Cab_. Pete was on the playground with most of his crew and _The Hush_ , and Patrick had taken over the DJ booth and was playing some funky stuff that was starting to grow on Jon. 

Ryan wanted to go on the lake and Brendon thought this was a great idea and said as much to Pete, who shrugged, and when Jon looked back at the lake there was a rowboat that hadn’t been there before. 

“Seriously,” Spencer said, reading Jon’s mind, when they crawled into the narrow boat. To Jon’s amazement they managed to get seated without tipping themselves into the lake. Ryan took the seat behind Brendon and Jon sat behind Spencer. “Where the hell did this come from?” 

“Pete,” Brendon said with a serene smile. 

“Okay, seriously, Pete can barely play bass,” Spencer interjected. Ryan made an indignant sound of protest. “How the hell do you expect me to believe that he heads an armada of ships and makes things appear at a whim?” 

“Do you guys know Pete?” Brendon frowned at him and stopped trying to row the boat. Jon was glad, because he was really more of a hindrance than help. Spencer took over the rowing at that point, strong solid strokes that pulled them quickly away from the dock and the sounds of the party. 

“Patrick, Pete, Andy and Joe have a band,” Ryan explained. “I hire them for a lot of festivals. They’re really popular with the younger crowds especially, but everyone likes them because, well, Patrick’s voice is amazing and they play songs from _everywhere._ And Pete does not suck at bass.” He glared at Spencer. “He writes all their original stuff, and it is brilliant.” Jon suspected he was only just barely containing the urge to stick out his tongue at Spencer. 

“Well, okay,” Brendon said, “Pete’s a Q.” 

“A what?” Spencer asked caustically. 

“A Q,” Brendon repeated. “You know?” Jon expected that his own blank look resembled the ones on the faces of Spencer and Ryan. Brendon sighed. “The Q are a race of omnipotent beings. In our class on how to deal with Q, we read these mission debriefings that Captain Picard wrote where he said that their power was limited only by their will.” 

“Pete?” Spencer said. 

Ryan looked speculative, though. “That explains how he always managed to be on the station in time for the shows, no matter where he was when I contacted him,” he said. 

“And their ship,” Spencer said. He’d stopped rowing and set aside the oars. Jon spread his legs and Spencer climbed between them, resting his back against Jon’s chest. Brendon gave them a strange look. 

“Guys, what’s going on?” Brendon asked. Ryan sighed. He put his arms around Brendon’s neck and looped his legs around Brendon’s hips. His chin rested on Brendon’s shoulder. They looked so nice together that Jon almost didn’t mind that he wasn’t touching them, too. 

Spencer reached out to stroke a finger down Brendon’s cheek. Ryan caught the tip with a kiss, then sucked it between his lips. Jon felt his breathing pick up, saw a flush creep over Brendon’s cheeks. 

“Here’s the thing,” Jon said. “There’s no freaking out allowed. At least, not about us.” 

“Us,” Brendon said softly. Ryan twisted Brendon’s face enough to kiss him. 

“Brendon,” he whispered against his mouth, “I have to tell you.” He started slowly, haltingly, speaking of the early years on the station, after his mother’s death. Brendon probably understood immediately, but he just listened with a solemn expression. 

Ryan told the story differently from Spencer. The facts were all the same, but he didn’t use that matter-of-fact tone Spencer had used to hide his feelings behind. Ryan’s feelings were right there for them all to see, raw and honest and so painful it made Jon’s eyes sting. Made him want to draw Ryan to him and hold him tight. 

As he spoke he wound himself more tightly around Brendon, clasping his hands together around Brendon’s middle. He mouthed the words into Brendon’s shirt so they came out muffled and hesitant, and when he’d finished, he stared down at his hands and said, “I still hate the Federation. But Brendon, I love you. I love all of you. So you have to help me figure out how this will work, because I don’t want to be the sort of person who would ask you to quit.” 

Brendon worked his hand between Ryan’s, lacing their fingers together. He reached for Spencer with his other, who’d already taken Jon’s hand, who’d taken Ryan’s other hand, completing the circle. 

“When I was a kid,” Brendon said, his smile wistful, “I wanted to be an archaeologist. And when I got a little older, I wanted to be a dancer. When I became a teenager I wanted to be a fashion designer.” He laughed and shook his head. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much this frustrated my parents, because they wanted me to be Starfleet. And I really didn’t want to be Starfleet. 

“I really didn’t like Starfleet at all. I thought they stuck their nose in where it didn’t belong while ignoring people really in need. And I still think that the Prime Directive is ridiculous and cruel. I couldn’t imagine wearing that uniform and following orders and being like my parents.” 

He looked thoughtful for a minute, leaning his cheek against Ryan’s. “When I got a little older,” he said slowly, “I began to understand a little more about personal responsibility and duty and I thought about how Earth used to be, after WWIII, and thought if I’d been born before all that had happened, maybe it could have been different. But the Federation _had_ done a lot of good. Besides,” he added ruefully, “I didn’t have much of a choice, because my parents decided to enrol me in Starfleet Academy early, and since my grades were so good I got selected. 

“Only, after the first two semesters, I got to start taking elective courses. I took this one science class to fulfil a requirement and it was just…it was amazing.” Brendon’s whole face lit up when he was talking—big smile and red cheeks and eyes sparkling. It was beautiful, different from Spencer’s genuine prettiness and Ryan’s delicate, eerie beauty. Brendon’s beauty came from his happiness. 

“I started taking more and more, and by the time my parents found out I’d switched my focus from command to science, they couldn’t do anything to change it. I mean, they were furious, but all my professors supported the choice, and my parents didn’t want them to get the impression that I was fickle or something. 

“They still got their way in the end ‘cause they pulled some strings with a friend and had me selected to be a part of the Red Squad and continue on for command school, but by then I didn’t mind so much. By then I really loved what I was learning. But I still wasn’t so sure about all of Starfleet’s policies, which is why I was really picky about choosing my first assignment. I never told my parents, but I got offered some pretty big awesome jobs out of the science field, where I’d be piloting and doing away missions and be in the direct chain of command. 

“Bajor is really fascinating to me, and when Dax offered me the position, I didn’t hesitate. I’m sorry, so, so sorry, because I know what Starfleet did was awful and stupid and they used awful, stupid bureaucratic reasons for it, but I believe Commander Sisko really cares for Bajor, even if he isn’t actually the Emissary. And Dax has all these great plans for helping the ecosystem of Bajor and helping the Bajorans become self-sufficient, and, I’m sorry,” he said, and stopped at the way Ryan was going tense. 

“I’m not going to try to convince you that Starfleet is good, Ryan, because I don’t always think so, myself,” Brendon said. “But you’re right that I don’t want to give it up, either, because if no one ever tries to change it, it isn’t ever going to get any better. So maybe you can help me be a sort of Starfleet officer that you can love.” He looked up then, eyes mischievous and fixed on Jon. “And the sort of Starfleet officer that you’ll want to party with.” 

“Because, guys,” he went on, looking a little frustrated and bewildered, “I will not be one of those weirdoes who wears his uniform, like to bed or whatever, who can’t be bothered to change to go to the bar or the holodeck and stuff. And I never want to be the guy who does what he’s told just because he’s told to do it. I don’t want to do things I don’t believe in.” 

Spencer laughed, but it sounded wet, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Brendon’s. It looked fervent and maybe a little wild and certainly messy. Jon hadn’t even been the one kissed and he knew what Spencer meant to convey. All the same, Spencer said it when they’d parted. “Brendon, I’m so glad we fell in love with you.” 

Brendon laughed, too, and he still looked bewildered. His mouth was red and sore-looking and Jon just wanted to make it redder. “I still don’t understand how this happened,” he said weakly. 

They all laughed at that. Ryan nuzzled his throat and said, “Jon says ‘no worries.’” Jon nodded, an expression of faux sternness on his face. 

Brendon’s face went from silly to serious in a second, but serious in a sexy way. “I suppose,” he said, voice lower and huskier than usual. He hooked a finger under Jon’s chin and pulled him closer. “That’s an order I don’t mind following.” 

Jon’s heart was slamming in his chest, Brendon’s tone gone straight to his groin. Spencer felt it and squirmed his hips back, eliciting a groan just as Brendon sealed their lips together. 

It got a little confusing from there, because Jon wasn’t sure entirely who was doing what. There were hands on his knees stroking up the inside of his thighs and someone’s teeth on his jaw and hands sliding around his back, under his shirt. He opened his eyes to see Brendon crawling into Spencer’s lap and there was a tangle of legs—Jon’s over Spencer’s, Brendon’s between them, Ryan’s encircling them and seriously, Ryan had really long legs that Jon wouldn’t mind to see bare. In fact, he was hoping to see a lot of bare skin in the very near future. He closed a hand around one of Ryan’s ankles, pushed up under his pants, feeling Ryan’s calf tense at his touch. Ryan bit down roughly on Spencer’s shoulder and Spencer abandoned Jon’s neck in favour of Ryan’s mouth. 

Catcalls drifted across the water from the beach. Jon couldn’t really understand it, but knew it was Pete and Frank and all of _The Academy_. Spencer jerked back, going bright pink and he knocked into Brendon who flailed around comically, and maybe it was inevitable when the canoe capsized, because it was their own damn fault for thinking they could try to initiate an orgy there. 

When Jon resurfaced Brendon was cackling and Spencer was trying to get the canoe right side up again and Ryan, who looked like a drowned cat, was glaring at them. “I hate you all,” he muttered, even as Jon and Spencer managed to get the canoe upright. 

It wasn’t like they could get any wetter, but Brendon made a big show of attaching himself to Ryan and dunking him in the process. “You _love_ us,” he sang in Ryan’s ear. Ryan just bit down on his lip against a smile. 

By the time they’d reached the shore everyone had gathered to ridicule and make innuendos. Sisky and the Butcher had composed a brief, dirty ditty about alien sex organs and kinky sexual practices and they’d taught it to _The Academy_ and the _Cobra_ who sang it slightly off beat and off key. Spencer made a rude gesture in their direction, smiling blissfully as he did. 

Frank said something about them leaving off just when things were getting good and Pete offered to dry them up with a snap of his fingers, but Jon looked at the others and could see in their eyes that they’d rather dry off themselves. In Brendon’s room. By taking off all their clothing. 

“They’re really not ones to talk,” Brendon said as they left. “You should have seen them all last night. I would not be surprised to learn that a twenty-person orgy took place on the holodeck last night after I left. 

Ryan blushed furiously. “Oh gods. They know exactly what we’re going to do,” he said, wringing his hands. 

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed, unrepentant. 

“And they just wish they could see it,” Jon said. It was delightful, the way Ryan and Spencer blushed in unison. He wondered how far down those blushes went. 

“Or join it,” Brendon mused. He and Jon shared a wicked grin. 

They managed to mostly keep their hands to themselves for the five minutes it took them to walk to the turbolift and get to Brendon’s room, but the minute his doors hissed shut behind them, all bets were off. 

Τ

If he’d had to say any of them were a virgin, Spencer would have guessed Brendon. He would not have guessed Jon, not in a million years. But once they had managed to tear each other’s clothes off, Jon had gone from easy confidence to slightly awkward embarrassment. 

“It’s just,” Jon said, stammering a little, “I’ve told you, as soon as people know I’m Risian…”

“Oh, Jon,” Spencer said lightly, teasing. “You just wanted to be able to show off to all the other Risians when you tell them your first time was with three other people.” 

Brendon cosied up to Spencer’s side, regarding Jon with a lazy smile. He took Jon’s hand and led him to the bed, lying down on his back and pulling Jon over him. Spencer let his gaze fall on Ryan who looked eager and nervous, shaking just a little. Spencer had seen Ryan naked plenty of times, but it had never been sexy. Now he couldn’t help himself. He wrapped Ryan in his arms, drew their mouths together. Ryan was all sharp angles where Spencer was soft, and they just _fit_. 

“Come on,” Ryan said and tugged on Spencer’s hand. “Can’t let Brendon have all the fun deflowering our virgin.” Jon’s ‘fuck you’ was muffled against Brendon’s lips as Brendon rolled Jon beneath him. 

They climbed on the bed to either side of Brendon and Jon. Spencer let his hands smooth up the inside of Brendon’s knee, up his thigh. Brendon made a low sound and ground his hips into Jon’s. Ryan managed to wriggle a hand between their bodies, fingers toying lightly with Jon’s nipples. 

Jon tore his mouth away from Brendon’s, making a faint keening sound. “I didn’t tell you guys I was a virgin so that you’d focus all your attention on me. This is about us.” 

“Jon,” Spencer said fondly, “shut up.” 

“No worries,” Ryan said. 

“Can I fuck him first?” Brendon whispered into Jon’s throat. “Can I fuck you, Jon?” 

“Holy shit, yes,” Jon whispered back. “Yes, yes, Brendon.” 

“C’mere,” Spencer said. He pushed Brendon aside and hooked his arms under Jon’s knees, pulling him to the edge of the bed. He got on his knees on the floor, nudging Jon’s legs further apart. “Go replicate something, then,” he snapped impatiently at Brendon, who was just watching them with wide eyes. “If you’re going to fuck him.” 

Brendon scurried off, barking at the computer about lubrication and Spencer had to laugh, because it was _so Pete_ , when the computer asked which kind and began listing off several different variants and their relative merits. 

Spencer couldn’t decide what part of Jon to go for first, with him all lain out bare and pliant before him. Ryan’s fingers twisted Jon’s nipple again and then he replaced his hand with his mouth. Spencer saw a flash of teeth before Ryan closed his mouth and sucked. Jon’s eyes closed and his back arched, and Ryan’s hand skated down his stomach. Ryan didn’t tease; he took Jon’s erection in his hand, squeezing, getting a feel for it. Jon bucked his hips, gritted his teeth and let out a hissing sound. 

With Jon spread open like that, Ryan’s mouth getting progressively closer to where his hand was slowly pumping Jon’s dick, Spencer sort of lost the ability to think straight. He put his hands on Jon’s thighs, spread him open wider, and dove between his legs. He mouthed over Jon’s balls, tongued lower ‘til he found an opening. He didn’t know a lot about Risian physiology, but he could guess by looking and feeling and he realised just how lucky the four of them were, that Humans, Bajorans and Risians fit so well together. 

Jon made a choked sound when Spencer swirled his tongue around the tense ring. Ryan chuckled and Spencer lifted his eyes to see Ryan already looking at him. He lowered his mouth, sucking just the tip of Jon’s erection between his lips. Jon’s hands flew out, fisting in the blanket. 

Brendon returned, spooning up behind Ryan on the bed. His mouth covered Jon’s, swallowing his sounds and he wrapped his arm around Ryan, fingers running teasingly up and down Ryan’s length and yeah, yeah, they were so totally doing this, and Spencer still didn’t entirely believe it. He still expected to wake up in his grey room on the station and realise he’d dreamed Brendon and Jon up entirely. He cupped Ryan’s cheek in his hand and ran his fingers back through Ryan’s hair, urging him to take Jon deeper and he did. Ryan opened his jaw and sank down Jon’s length and Spencer could feel Jon moving inside against his palm. 

“Fuck, Brendon, give me something,” Spencer hissed. Feeling Jon in Ryan’s mouth like that, all he could think of was having Jon inside him, but Brendon wanted to fuck Jon and shit, this was going to be over too fast. 

Brendon had brought back a plethora of lube. He laughed sheepishly at Spencer’s curse, breaking his kiss to explain. “I had no idea there were so many different _flavours_.” Jon laughed, low in his throat and Ryan giggled around his mouthful and Spencer felt a rush of warmth because this was so comfortable and so _right._

He slicked two fingers in the first bottle he grabbed, which turned out to be peach flavoured. Jon was already loose. Spencer didn’t have an extraordinary amount of experience with this, but from what experience he had, he knew it was strange how utterly relaxed Jon was for a virgin. He didn’t even wince when Spencer pushed both fingers in, right away. He just tilted his hips and pushed down to meet him and grunted, “more.” 

Spencer poured more lube into his palm, got another finger slick and pushed it alongside the first two. Jon was panting now, hips moving restlessly between trying to push down onto Spencer’s hand and push up into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan had lost the rhythm he’d built up and let his mouth fall slack, abandoning Jon. His eyes were squeezed shut and his head thrown back against Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon’s strokes on Ryan’s dick were hard and rough. 

Jon was watching them, too. His eyes were unfocussed and the soft grunting noise he kept making was the sexiest thing Spencer had ever heard. He bit Jon’s thigh gently. “He’s ready,” he said to Brendon and clambered up onto the bed and rubbed more oil over his fingers before passing it to Ryan. He reached between his own thighs, fingering himself lightly before slipping two in. It burnt; it had been a long time, but he _needed_ to be fucked. 

Brendon slipped between Jon’s thighs and Ryan coated him in the lube, guided him to Jon’s opening. Jon and Brendon groaned in unison. Jon’s face twisted up in pleasure, Brendon bit his lip hard and with a snap of his hips buried himself all the way inside. “Fuck,” he said. “You’re so tight, fuck.” 

“Yes,” Jon panted. 

“Yes,” Ryan echoed. “Gods, Brendon…” For someone not directly involved in the act, Ryan sounded pretty damn excited by it. He got down on his elbows, leaning close to Jon’s ear. “My turn next,” he purred. 

Before Jon and Brendon had time to develop a rhythm, Spencer threw a thigh over Jon’s waist, facing Brendon, and reached for Jon’s cock. He was wet from Ryan’s mouth, and shit, shit, shit. Spencer was _never_ going to last because he was about to fuck the cock that Ryan had just sucked and it was Jon and Brendon was panting into Spencer’s throat. 

“Ryan,” he said and Ryan scrambled to help him line it up. Spencer felt vaguely bad that Ryan was doing all this helping and not really getting anything for himself, but then he sat back on his heels, sinking down Jon’s length and he forgot about _everything_ except the sensation. His mouth fell open on a silent moan. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Brendon said, breathing into Spencer’s mouth. Spencer couldn’t answer; he couldn’t find the words. Brendon hands smoothed up Spencer’s back and tangled in his hair. He kissed Spencer again, soft and slow. 

For a long minute, Spencer just sat there, getting used to the stretch, being full of _Jon._ Jon was surprisingly patient for a virgin being fucked two different ways. His hands came up to stroke Spencer’s back, run down his sides. Slowly, Spencer rocked against him and Jon let out a harsh breath. Brendon grabbed Spencer’s hips, squeezed tight and pulled a little out of Jon then slammed back in, hard and fast. It made Jon’s hips buck up and with Brendon holding him in place it was just right to make Spencer cry out with pleasure. Brendon kissed him, all-consuming. 

Spencer had been right; it didn’t take long. Brendon kept drawing harsh sounds from Jon with his deep thrusts and Jon kept hitting Spencer right where he needed it. Spencer just went with it, rocking his hips against Jon and Brendon. His cock was trapped between his stomach and Brendon’s and the friction was too much. 

Then Ryan wrapped an arm around him from behind. “Come on, Spence.” Ryan’s voice was strained like he was the one being fucked. His fingers teased over the head of Spencer’s cock and he sucked on Spencer’s neck and Spencer came with a surprised cry, arching his back so hard it hurt, but in a good way. 

Jon’s hand fisted in Spencer’s hair and he jerked him back until Spencer was laid out on his chest. He turned his head to meet Jon’s kiss and felt Jon come inside him, so hot. Brendon’s thrusts turned shallow and his breathing sped up even more. Ryan slipped off the bed, fitting himself up against Brendon. He peppered kisses over Brendon’s shoulders and up his neck, let his fingers play over Brendon’s chest. Then he sucked one of his fingers into his mouth and pulled it away, spit slick, and shoved it up Brendon’s ass, and that, apparently, was all it took. Brendon’s eyes rolled back in his head and with a last jerk of his hips, he came. 

Brendon climbed up on the bed beside them, throwing an arm over Spencer and Jon. Ryan linked fingers with him and they smiled at one another. Spencer watched them, still trying to catch his breath. Ryan was still hard, rubbing himself against Jon’s thigh. 

“Greedy,” Brendon chided. “Ryan just wanted all of our attention.” 

Ryan arched a brow but didn’t contradict him. “Don’t you want to give me your attention, Brendon?” He rolled onto his back, spreading his arms out. Brendon leapt at the offer, covering Ryan’s body with his own. He pressed wet kisses into Ryan’s throat and down his chest. 

It was kind of insanely hot, watching Brendon go down on Ryan, deep-throating him with apparently little effort. Ryan squealed and the sound went straight to Spencer’s dick. “Fucking hell, Brendon,” Ryan gasped. Brendon shoved the heels of his hands to Ryan’s pelvis, holding him down, and hollowed his cheeks. “Shit, Brendon.” 

Jon’s dick jerked and Spencer wiggled his hips in encouragement and Jon grew harder. They rolled together onto their sides and Jon gave a little thrust. He slid a hand around Spencer’s waist and stroked him a few times and that was all it took to get him completely hard again too. Spencer wondered wildly if he was going to have the stamina to keep up in this relationship, but he figured as long as the other three kept doing things like this, it would be fine. 

“Brendon,” Ryan cried, and began pushing at his shoulders. “Brendon, please, I don’t want…not yet.” 

Brendon pulled back so his lips were just brushing Ryan’s dick when he spoke. “Don’t worry babe,” he breathed and Ryan shivered. “I’ll take care of you.” He swallowed Ryan again, all the way down. 

Jon gave a particularly hard thrust and groaned in Spencer’s ear. “Shit that’s hot.” And, yeah, Spencer wouldn’t mind Brendon’s mouth on his dick _at all_. 

Ryan came with another sharp cry and he looked beautiful. Spencer let himself admire it without the guilt that usually came with noticing. His lifted slightly off the bed, head thrown back. His neck was a tense, long line, his nipples were hard and red, begging attention; his thighs were locked around Brendon’s neck and he went all still for a minute before collapsing back to the bed, shaking. Brendon just kept working his throat, sucking until Ryan began to make soft sounds of protest and pushed at his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” Ryan said shakily. Brendon grabbed his hand and squeezed, cuddling up beside him and Spencer noticed Brendon was already hard again, too, slipping between Ryan’s thighs, getting himself slick. Ryan watched him, breathing rapidly. He grabbed Brendon’s hips and urged him on. When Brendon was seated in him, Ryan hooked his legs over his waist, holding him in place. They rocked together, and Jon matched their pace, rocking his hips into Spencer’s. 

They were up all night, and Spencer sort of lost track of what exactly was happening after a while. The tangle of limbs, the press of lips and after Jon finished fucking him for the second time Ryan was eager to take his place and Spencer knew he was never going to be able to walk again when it was over, but it was so good, he just didn’t give a fuck, not even when Brendon demanded his turn and Spencer was on his knees, sucking Jon off, the taste and scent of various fruits in his mouth and all around. 

When they finally collapsed in a heap, exhausted and sated, Spencer found himself cocooned in the middle with Brendon. Ryan and Jon, on the outsides, fumbled with the blankets and managed to get them all covered. “We smell gross,” he muttered, but didn’t pull his face away from where it was pressed into Jon’s arm. 

“Shower later,” Jon groaned. “Sleep now.” Ryan harrumphed and Brendon made a sound of agreement and Spencer hadn’t wanted to get up anyway, even to wash away the smell because he could barely move, let alone think about trying to stand under the showerhead for any length of time. Besides, they smelled like sex, and he sort of liked it. 

“Sometimes,” Brendon said, his voice breaking the stillness and silence that had fallen. Spencer had almost slipped into sleep, but now he rolled to face Brendon and opened his eyes. Brendon’s were already open, staring out the window. Jon shifted a little, resting his head on Spencer’s shoulder and Ryan tightened the arm he had around Brendon. Brendon smiled softly. His face was lit up in starlight and he looked wondering. 

“Sometimes, I look at it and I want to be in it. We forget because we have the ship or the station or the atmosphere all around us and there are all those distant stars and planets, but it’s just nothing. Just emptiness. A vacuum.” Brendon’s voice was low and melodic, soothing, somehow. Spencer hugged him close. 

“Everything I’ve ever learned tells me I can’t. I’ll asphyxiate, and my blood will boil and my body will freeze. I know that. But Pete took me out there, and I felt was this sort of overwhelming peace, like I was isolated from everything, like I was the only thing in the universe. It was just like I’d always imagined it might be. It was just what I’d always wanted it to be. Only…I don’t want that anymore.” 

Ryan sought out Jon and Spencer’s hands. “Love you,” he murmured. 

Brendon made a sound suspiciously like crying, but his face was dry. “We do love you,” Jon said and Spencer nodded his head fervently. Brendon still didn’t look directly at him. His eyes fell closed against the stars. 

Falling asleep with Ryan and Jon had been good. Really, it had been much better than that. But he knew they’d all felt it, the place that Brendon was supposed to occupy. This was how it was supposed to be, and he pressed as close and as tight to Brendon as he could, they all did, and kept him warm and safe. 

Waking this time was even better, too. Brendon and Ryan were already awake, Ryan straddling Brendon. They were moving together, sharing lazy kisses. The sheets had shifted, stopped from falling all the way by the swell of Ryan’s ass, and how had Spencer never realised how nicely curved it was, for as thin and bony as the rest of him was. Every time he rocked back onto Brendon the sheets parted, giving Spencer a glimpse of where their bodies met. 

He just watched them for a long time, until the rocking got fast and Ryan tore his mouth away from Brendon, letting out little breathy cries and getting louder and louder. Brendon grabbed his hips, knocking the sheets out of the way and Spencer could see it all then. He got up on his knees, moving behind Ryan to spoon against his back. He cupped Brendon’s balls, squeezed until Brendon moaned. His hips lost their smooth, fluid motions and became jagged, erratic. 

Ryan braced himself with one hand on Brendon’s chest and reached behind himself blindly with the other. His hand fisted in Spencer’s hair and jerked til Spencer gave in, kissing him sloppily. Spencer let his fingers find the place where Brendon was fucking Ryan and stroked Brendon’s dick, the stretched skin of Ryan’s ass. 

Brendon came with a gasp and Ryan, still hard, growled with frustration, trying to grind down. “Come on, Ry,” Spencer urged. He put his hands on Ryan’s hips and lifted enough to get him off Brendon’s cock. He was still stretched wide and wet from lube and Brendon’s come and it was easy for Spencer to just shift his hips up and bury himself inside. 

“Gods, Spencer.” Ryan sat up, letting his legs fall to either side of Spencer’s, spreading wider, letting him in deeper. He would have liked to see Ryan’s face, but there was something strangely exciting about having Ryan like this, like he was at his mercy. His back was arched, leaving his chest open, begging to be touched. Spencer tickled his fingers over the smooth skin and Ryan quivered until Spencer found a nipple, flicking his nail against it. The attention Ryan paid to their chests made it somewhat obvious that it was something Ryan himself liked, and Spencer wasn’t let down. Ryan gasped at the first touch and when Spencer pinched the nub between his fingers and twisted, Ryan just sort of lost it, shoving himself hard on Spencer’s lap. 

Brendon pushed himself up on his elbows. He was trapped by them, but didn’t seem to mind. He reached out, jerking Ryan off. He cut a gaze at Spencer and they shared a wicked smile, and timed it, Spencer twisted Ryan’s nipple the same time Brendon flicked his thumb over the head of Ryan’s cock. 

“Fuck. You,” Ryan spat, but the sound that followed said it was a good thing. 

“Mm,” Spencer agreed, chuckling. He nosed aside Ryan’s hair, pressing open kisses over the back of his neck, his shoulder, ‘til he found a mark on his throat, near his ear and didn’t know which of them had made it, but he sucked it into his mouth, making it bigger. Ryan stiffened, then went boneless, sagging back against Spencer with a ragged sigh. Brendon brought his hand to his mouth, licking Ryan’s come from his fingers. Spencer wasn't far in following him, biting down on the skin in his mouth. 

“Nice way to wake up,” Jon said, and of course they had woken him, but Spencer felt a little guilty for not including him. Only when he looked over, Jon was smiling sleepily at them, jerking himself off, and all it took was Ryan’s lips on his throat and Brendon’s fingers closing around Jon’s to get him to come. 

Brendon twisted his neck until there was a cracking sound and groaned. “Okay, for this to continue when we get back to DS9, we’ll need a bed at least this big and lots of pillows.” 

It was somewhat embarrassing, because Spencer knew that as soon as Brendon ordered a bigger bed, everyone in security would know about it, and then Spencer would never hear the end of it. That was, of course, if he still had a job when he got back. He pushed that thought away fiercely, because whether he had that job or not, he had Brendon and Jon and Ryan, and he could get another job. It didn’t mean that much to him. 

Ryan groaned and elbowed Spencer gently in the ribs. “I’m disgusting, get off me,” he said. Spencer let go and leaned back. He could have helped, but he liked the way the muscles in Ryan’s back twisted when he writhed around, finally managing to get off Spencer and Brendon. 

“Need any help reaching your back?” Jon offered playfully. 

“No,” Ryan said, in that bland way he had, and for a second Jon looked confused. Then Ryan stopped at the doorway and looked over his shoulder. “Though, there’s this spot,” he went on, and traced a finger down the crack of his ass. “You might be able to reach that one.” Ryan laughed at the look on their faces and disappeared into the ‘fresher. Jon scrambled after him, skidding through the door. 

“Come on,” Brendon said, tackling Spencer back to the mattress and rolling onto his feet. “That bathroom is _huge_. Pete doesn’t fuck around with potential sex-having spots.” Spencer grinned and let Brendon jerk him to his feet and resigned himself to a really incredible sex life even if it meant late breakfasts and hurrying to make it to work on time. 

By the time they managed to make their way to the dining area, almost everyone was already there. Impressively, the _Cab_ and _The Academy_ were still really drunk, and Spencer wondered if they’d even gone to sleep or if they’d just been drinking the entire evening. 

The part of the deck dedicated to the dining area was a big open space with lots comfortable tables and booths, surrounded by various restaurant fronts serving food from all over the galaxy. Pete had a lot of people working there, and everything was free, so for now Spencer was just taking on faith what Brendon had said about Pete being all-powerful. Because how else could he afford to employ all these people, and have a huge fleet, and be in a relatively popular and successful band? 

Still, it was weird, because _Pete?_

And, speak of the devil; Pete appeared at their table, followed shortly by Patrick, Gerard, Frank and Dax. Brendon blushed when he saw Dax, and Spencer realised that she must have seen them go the night before, too. It probably had to be even more awkward for Brendon to know that, with Dax being his superior. 

“Sleep well, boys?” Frank asked. He was smirking and Spencer wouldn’t have minded smacking the look off his face. He settled for muttering, “shut up.” 

Gerard did his Vulcan eyebrow twitch thing and made a blank face. “It is highly illogical to become embarrassed about sexual intercourse.” 

“Don’t try pulling that Vulcan shit on us now,” Ryan said. He gave Gerard a dark look. Gerard shrugged easily and laughed with Frank. 

“You boys left too early last night,” Pete said. “I wanted to talk to you about…things.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. 

Spencer was remarkably wary of him. He let Ryan take his hand, wrapped an arm around Jon’s back. “What do you want?” 

Pete laughed. “Spencer. You paranoid dork. Did Brendon tell you guys about me, is that it?” 

“Yes,” Spencer said. “But I have to say that that doesn’t have a lot to do with it.” 

Patrick covered his mouth a made a sound suspiciously like laughter, answered by Pete’s scowl in his direction. “Look, you realise I have, like, unlimited powers, right? The ability to bend the cosmos to my will and all that shit? I could make you forget you’d ever met me, make you trust me implicitly; I could snap my fingers and make it so you’d never even existed.” Spencer felt his unease growing. “But I don’t.” His voice went hard. 

“I’ve been waiting for you guys, okay, and I’ve been patient. I knew you’d all meet up eventually. I could have fixed it so it happened sooner, or engineered a situation like this, but I didn’t. I had no idea that Gabe would go to DS9. I didn’t even know that Brendon was there yet,” Pete said. 

“Waiting for us?” Ryan asked. “What do you mean? Waiting for who? You know me and Spence.” 

“Waiting for all of you,” Pete said, grinning again. “Jon and Brendon, too.” 

“But _why_?” Brendon asked. He looked baffled and intrigued. Spencer sort of hated that Pete could say stuff like “I can bend the cosmos to my will” and earn Brendon’s awe, because that was totally cheating. 

“There are different worlds, you know,” Pete said. “Universes, timelines.” 

“Like the mirror universe,” Brendon guessed. “We talked about that at the Academy. One difference changes the course of events, creating a parallel existence.” 

Pete nodded. “Right. And you’re all still there. I mean, sometimes it’s better than others. Like, in the mirror universe you’re talking about? You and Jon are Ryan and Spencer’s slaves.” Spencer tensed, hand fisting in Jon’s shirt. Jon shrugged him off, grabbed his hand instead and gave him a smile that told him not to freak out. 

“It’s alright,” Pete assured him. “In a couple years the Terrans will lead a revolt and Jon and Brendon still love you two, even there. They’ll get you out of harm’s way, and when all the dust settles, well, Ryan isn’t going to be happy, but I trust that you’ll work that out.” 

“Besides,” he said, “that isn’t the important part. The important part is, that no matter what’s happening differently, you’re still together. We’re all still together.” He waved a hand to encompass all the people in the room. 

“Yeah,” Frank said. He bounced in his seat. “In one, we’re all rock stars. Pete’s showed us. We rock so way more hardcore than you guys.” 

“Totally different music,” Gerard said, peaceably enough. “Not really comparable.” But he had a smirk like he agreed with what Frank said. Ryan made a face at them. 

“You’ve been scientists, artists, prisoners, soldiers. You’ve been born in different corners of the same world, different corners of the universe. You’ve had all sorts of obstacles, but in the end, you always find each other,” Pete said. For someone who could make anything happen, he seemed awed by this. 

Ryan had this sweet, hesitant smile though, thinking about it, and maybe Spencer wasn’t so annoyed with Pete. Of course it would appeal to the romantic in Ryan to think that no matter what, they’d all be together. 

“So,” Brendon began slowly. 

“So,” Pete interrupted, “you all belong together, and you together belong with us. So you’re going to join my armada, yes?” It was more of a statement than a question. 

“No,” Ryan said, suddenly loud and indignant and surprised. 

“No?” Pete said. His brow frowned. He looked at Patrick a little lost, like people didn’t tell him no. 

“No,” Jon agreed. “Not yet.” 

“Not yet?” Spencer asked. 

“When Brendon gets his own ship,” Ryan said. 

“Well, see, I can give you a ship,” Pete said, exasperated. “Any sort of ship you want. Except, not like ours. Ours is special.” 

“No,” Jon said. “When he’s a captain in Starfleet.” 

“Guys,” Brendon said softly. “You don’t even want me to be in Starfleet.” 

Spencer gave him a fierce glare. “Didn’t you just say last night that you didn’t want to be the guy who gave up his career because we asked?” Brendon had the decency to look sheepish. 

“Yeah, but…”

“No buts,” Ryan interrupted. “You’re supposed to be the sort of Starfleet officer I can love. And besides, Starfleet needs someone like you to be a captain.” 

“And then,” Jon said, talking it out, “then think of it. Pete really could show us new worlds and civilisations. Places other ships couldn’t dream of going.” 

Pete looked put out by all this. “Promotions take forever,” he whined. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Patrick growled. 

“I could step things up a bit,” Pete said, heedless. 

“I’m on the command track,” Brendon said. 

Pete sighed. “You guys suck.” 

“Promise you won’t pull any strings,” Brendon said. “I get enough of that from my parents.” 

There was a lot of grumbling from Pete and a lot of threatening looks from Patrick to Pete and finally Pete relented, but he didn’t sound too happy about it. “When you guys change your minds—because you’re going to change your minds—I’m not going to be gracious about it. I’m totally going to say I told you so.” 

Jon nodded amicably. “Alright Pete,” he said, and patted Pete’s hand. 

“Can we go back to the station now?” Spencer asked. It was fun here, and everything, but he was worried about how long they’d been gone, and the questions that they needed to answer when they got back, and he’d feel better when they were back. 

“God, you guys are _no fun at all_ ,” Pete exclaimed, but he agreed, nonetheless. 

All of the crew of the _Cobra_ had to give Brendon smothering hugs that made Ryan’s eyes narrow, and the _Helena_ shook hands and patted backs and gave ‘live long and prosper’ hand symbols that were somehow ridiculous and sweet at the same time, because even if Mikey did seem kind of emotionless at times, he and Gerard were the worst Vulcans ever. 

Then, before they left, Pete gave them each a small pin shaped like a bat. The heart in the centre was a different gemstone for each of them. Spencer’s glinted dark blue. “When you need me, or if you want to hang out or whatever, just press there,” he said, and indicated the stone. 

“Or just yell really loudly,” Patrick muttered. 

Pete ignored him and went on blithely. “Just so you know, I think you’re all stupid. And you’re still expected to come party with us at least every other week.” He gave them all crushing hugs and then gave one to Dax too, who looked bemused, but hugged him back. “You’re welcome to hang out, too,” he told her, with an eyebrow wiggle that was probably supposed to be sexy. Dax didn’t laugh, at least, which Spencer thought was good of her. 

“Just send them home,” Patrick snapped, and Pete pouted and there was a flash of light and suddenly, they were all standing in Operations. 

Everyone just stopped, until the only noise was the beeping of instrumentation and the hum of the engines. Sisko’s office door was open and he spied them, pausing in the middle of a conversation he’d been having with his view screen. Odo was standing behind him and Spencer felt his glare like a slap across the face. He was in such deep shit. 

Υ

Brendon looked around himself in surprise, assessing the situation. He was back in his uniform, as was Dax, though the rest of them were wearing the same clothes they had been on the station. There was a weight in his pocket and when he slipped his hand inside, he felt the jagged edges of the bat pin Pete had given him, and something else, a bottle, smooth and—dear god, tell him Pete didn’t put _lube_ in his pocket. But he had other things to worry about. 

“Ensign Urie.” Sisko’s voice boomed across Operations. He didn’t sound _angry_ , exactly, but it wasn’t a happy sound, either. 

They moved as one toward his office, and as they stepped inside, Dax prevented further berating by stepping out of the crowd and rushing towards him, exclaiming, “Benjamin!” 

Commander Sisko’s face split in a huge smile. He swept Dax into a hug, which was like, really inappropriate, but Brendon had heard rumours about them, and no one seemed to care, like it was old hat. “Old man!” Sisko greeted her, almost rapturously. “Good to have you back.” Brendon had only met the guy once, but this was such a dramatic change, he didn’t know what to make of it. He couldn’t quite reconcile serious, stern, forbidding Sisko with happy, hugging, sweet Sisko. 

“Is Brendon there?” A cold, heavy feeling settled in the pit of Brendon’s stomach at the sound of his mother’s voice. 

“Mom,” Brendon said. Sisko gestured for him to step behind the desk. His parents came into view on the screen. His mother made a sound of relief and his father’s shoulders slumped a little. He supposed that should have made him feel good, that they’d been worried, but all he could hear was what he knew would come, when they waved him in private, demanding to know how he could have been so careless, how he could have let himself be taken. 

“Thank god,” his father muttered. 

“I’ll take it this means you have those Bajorans who took him then, too,” His mother said, addressing Odo. 

“Admiral Urie,” Odo said, sounding put-upon, “We have yet to find any concrete evidence that they were involved in—”

“Those _Bajorans_ ,” Brendon repeated. He knew Odo and Dax and Sisko were watching. He knew he should shut up and leave this ‘til later. Indignant anger was building up in his chest, replacing the anxiety. 

“ _Those_ Bajorans?” he demanded. “Those Bajorans are my boyfriends, and the only ones who came after me!” he shouted. Then with a sheepish look at Jon, added, “And Jon. He’s our boyfriend too, and he came after me, only he isn’t Bajoran.” He shook his head. “But that’s beside the point.” 

Sisko and Odo looked shell-shocked, but it was nothing compared to the matching expressions of mingled horror and anger on his parents’ faces. Suddenly, Brendon wished they’d come up with some sort of cover story for what had happened before they got back. Now, standing in front of his parents and his commanding officers, he couldn’t think, let along formulate a complex lie. 

Again, Dax came to the rescue, sweeping to Brendon’s side. She had this way of pitching her voice that was soothing without sounding condescending, and Brendon saw the looks of awe catch from Jon to Spencer to Ryan as she spoke. She wove an intricate story about Changelings and the Vorta and a Q, that, while believable, resembled the truth only in that it included the same species. Also, she’d apparently spoken to Pete or someone about it before leaving, because she had information about the Changeling that they hadn’t had before, which leant credibility to the story. 

Brendon knew his parents. He could tell that his mother’s blinking stare and his father’s frown meant that they believed it. He let out a shaky sigh, and smiled hesitantly at his…boyfriends sounded silly, even though he’d used it. Lovers…well, yes, but that didn’t sound right, either. He’d have to figure it out. But he smiled at them and they smiled back, even Ryan, and Brendon figured that meant he’d done something right. 

“Brendon,” his father said, and sounded worn out and weary. “Is that the truth?” 

Brendon felt insulted on Dax’s behalf, even though he knew she was lying. He nodded his head fervently. He knew better than to try to add anything or put his own spin on it, because then it would go from being vaguely weird but mostly believable to downright ridiculous. 

“Commander Sisko,” his mother said, putting on her admiral voice, “may we please have a moment alone with Ensign Urie?” Brendon fought the urge to cringe. That would just give them more ammo. 

Sisko graciously acceded and Odo and Dax went with him. His…Jon, Spencer and Ryan moved to go as well, but he held up a hand to stop them. Ryan looked uncomfortable but Spencer kept him in place with an arm snug around his waist and Jon touched his arm in that way he had that just made everything seem so much better. 

“What,” his mother asked, “is this nonsense about you having…having… _boyfriends_.” She spat out the last word like it was something poisonous to her. 

“I really don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Brendon said. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look closed off. He was afraid he just looked like a scared little boy. 

“We’re not _Andorians,_ Brendon,” his mother said. The way she said it, god. Brendon thought it was laughable sometimes, how his parents put on this good show for everyone else about how they fit into the perfect Starfleet mould, but they could be really close-minded and bigoted about cultures that didn’t mesh with their set of values. 

“Andorians have to have four people in their marriage because they have four sexes and they need all four to reproduce,” Brendon said through clenched teeth. 

His mother looked harassed. “Bolian, then. Humans do not have plural relationships.” 

“Yeah, well, this Human does. I really don’t see why we’re talking about this; I was just _kidnapped_.” He knew, _knew_ that it was a lost cause, but the part of him that was still an insecure kid wanted them to show concern, ask him if he was okay. 

“Yes,” his father said scathingly. “Let’s get back to the part where you managed to get yourself kidnapped and had to have a senior officer come to your rescue after less than a week on your first assignment.” 

“Wait,” Jon said. “Wait, you’re trying to make it sound like this is his fault?” Brendon had never heard Jon sound so serious or angry. Jon was Laid Back Guy, not Face Twisted Up With Rage Guy. 

“Who is that?” his mother demanded. 

“It’s Jon,” Brendon said. He held out his hand and Jon stepped around the desk to take it, glaring at the screen. 

His mother gave Jon an icy look. “I thought we asked everyone to leave.” 

“You asked the military in the room to leave. Because, let’s face it _Admiral_ , this isn’t really an official dressing-down. You don’t have anything you _can_ reprimand me about, because according to the Federation, I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s only your screwed up logic, Jesus.” Brendon was breathing heavily, but Jon was squeezing his hand tightly. It made him feel a little better. 

“Don’t you take that tone with us,” his father started warningly. 

“Whatever.” Brendon was disgusted, and embarrassed that Spencer and Ryan and Jon were seeing this. “I’m fine, and that’s about the end of your involvement in this, because the extent of your involvement is that I’m your son, and right now, I don’t really care about that. So why don’t you leave this to Commander Sisko and Constable Odo and I’ll try not to do anything really inconvenient and embarrassing, like die.” 

He pushed the button to end the transmission before they could respond, jabbing so hard it sort of hurt his finger. “Ow.” He was pouting, he knew, and sounded like a sullen kid, but Spencer and Ryan came around the desk, too, Spencer squeezing his shoulder, Ryan running a stroking hand over his hair. He wanted to hug them and just hold on, but the walls of the office were glass, and Sisko and Odo were just standing right outside. Everyone in Ops could see them. 

“Hey, guys, I’ve got to…” he gestured outside. 

Spencer grimaced. “Me, too.” 

Brendon caught Sisko’s gaze, gave him a nod to let him know they’d finished. He and Odo came in together. Sisko looked distantly amused, but Odo was hard to read. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you want to try to giving me your version of events, Mister Smith?” he asked. 

“I know I shouldn’t have helped break Ryan out,” Spencer said evenly. “But we had to get Brendon back. I’ll take whatever punishment you give.” 

“It’s my fault,” Ryan interrupted. “I could have been more forthcoming about what happened between me and Brendon. Spencer was just helping.” 

Jon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I was the one who took Spencer to the _Helena_.” 

Sisko made a sound suspiciously like a chuckle, but when Brendon looked over, his face was smooth and serious. “As the only Starfleet officer present during Mister Ross’ departure from the station, Lieutenant Dax has taken complete responsibility for his escape, and explained the necessity of the situation,” he said. 

Spencer looked at Odo, as if waiting for the axe to fall. He eyed Spencer and made a grumbling sound. “Since Mister Ross wasn’t involved in Ensign Urie’s disappearance, and seeing as everyone has made it back to the station unharmed, I suppose I can pretend you were just doing your job.” 

Brendon didn’t know Odo, like, at all. He’d seen him twice before since coming to the station. And it was hard to tell. He wasn’t like William—he either hadn’t mastered his ability, or he didn’t care, but his face was smooth, incapable of much expression. Still, despite his tone, Brendon got the idea that he might have been teasing. Spencer’s smile, sharp and bright, confirmed it. 

“I believe temporary desk duty will be sufficient,” he concluded, and Spencer said, “Yes sir,” through his grin. 

“Mister Ross, Mister Smith.” Sisko shook each of their hands as he addressed them. “Mister…”

“Walker,” Jon said, shaking his hand and smiling wide. “Jon Walker.” 

“Mister Walker,” Sisko finished, with an answering smile. “I’d like to thank you all for bringing Ensign Urie back to us safely.” It was a dismissal and they seemed to understand that. Ryan cast a look at Brendon like he didn’t want to leave, and Brendon just gave him a reassuring smile. They and Odo left, the doors sliding shut after them. 

“I suppose most of the details of your kidnapping are best left untold, if Dax’s story was any indication,” Sisko said. He had this knowing smirk that told Brendon he hadn’t bought a word of Dax’s story. “However, this connection you have in the Gamma Quadrant and his information on the situation there could be vital right now. Dax said something about a communication device?” 

Brendon fingered the bat-jewel in his pocket and nodded his head. He wondered what else Dax had said to Sisko while he was talking to his parents and hoped none of it was too embarrassing. “And you’ll be reporting any pertinent information you receive on the Dominion as you receive it.” 

It wasn’t even a question. “Of course, sir!” he exclaimed. He could read between the lines. Sisko was willing to look the other way about weird not-quite kidnappings and the breaking out of prisoners as long as it benefited the greater good. It was one of the reasons that he was pretty sure Ryan could eventually come to like Sisko, because Sisko really cared about people, the Bajorans in particular. He cared about them a lot more than he worried about rules and regulations. 

“Good job, by the way, Ensign,” Sisko said. 

“But, Commander, I was kidnapped,” Brendon protested. 

Sisko smiled. “Keep it up and you might be looking at a promotion sometime soon. Now, go take the rest of the day off; you’re expected to return to duty tomorrow morning at 0700 hours. Lieutenant Dax and I would like to discuss a project with you.” 

Brendon turned to go, but paused at the door. “Sir,” he said, and this was probably crossing the line, but he was really curious. “Lieutenant Dax…she calls you…” Even saying it made him feel like he was committing insubordination, so he just grazed over the name and went on, “and you called her Old Man…”

He looked, but Sisko didn’t look angry. He had an almost goofy smile on his face. “You’ll have to ask Lieutenant Dax about her previous host sometime,” was all he said, then, “Dismissed.” 

When the lift lowered him to the Promenade level, he expected for them to be waiting for him and was a little disappointed that they weren’t. Then, across the Promenade he caught sight of them, outside Ryan’s shop, where two older Bajorans, a man and a woman, were speaking to them. 

Brendon hurried over and when Spencer saw him, his face lit up. “Mom, Dad, this is Brendon.” He was swept up in a hug by Spencer’s mother before he had a chance to process the introduction. 

“Wha—” Brendon began, but Spencer just shook his head, so Brendon stopped fighting it. 

“We came as soon as we heard,” she said, and released him. “From Brent, I might add.” She looked testily at her son. 

“We were kind of in a hurry, Mom,” Spencer said. He looked fond and exasperated and slightly pink in the cheeks. 

“Brendon, I’m glad to meet you,” she said. “I’m Ginger.” 

“Spencer,” Spencer’s father said, nodding, and Brendon decided he was just going to think of him as Mister Smith to avoid the confusion of having to address two people by the same name. 

Ginger looked around at all of them then, and between the appraisal in her eyes and the way she’d hugged him, Brendon got the idea that maybe she knew about them. It was a little embarrassing, not because he was the sort of person to be embarrassed by it, but because she was Spencer’s mom and it was weird to think of her knowing about them like that. 

“Ginger was about to tell me a funny story about Ryan and Spencer when they were twelve,” Jon said, eyes sparkling. 

“No, she really wasn’t,” Spencer said. 

“We thought we could look after the shop for a few days, give you a chance to rest,” she said to Ryan. She soothed his hair down as if he were her son, too, and Brendon guessed, from what Ryan had told them, that he was like a son to her. 

“Of course,” Spencer snorted. “Poor Ryan needs a break from the jewellery store while I take the punishment for breaking him out.” Ryan punched him in the arm. It was intriguing, watching them interact like this, especially now that he’d seen them together in bed. Weird, almost, how they were such close friends that they seemed like brothers, especially at a time like this, but how they worked as lovers, too. 

“Maybe we should let the boys rest now,” Mr. Smith said, and the humour in his tone confirmed that Spencer’s parents _totally_ knew. 

“Actually, I’m feeling okay,” Jon said. Brendon nodded. Maybe embarrassing stories were out (for now), but he’d still like to get to know the people who’d raised Spencer and Ryan. Especially since they were so doing this foursome thing. Obviously, his parents weren’t down with it, but Spencer’s weren’t yelling at them or insulting them, so that seemed like a good start. 

They had eaten just before they’d come, and Spencer’s parents weren’t hungry, so they ended up just hanging out in the jewellery shop. Jon and the two Spencers started up a conversation about politics which was intriguing, but Ryan and Ginger had gone over to the display case and were discussing Ryan’s new designs, and Brendon had wanted to hear more about that since he’d first seen the shop. 

Brendon approached them and Ryan smiled a little shyly, maybe remembering the last time they’d been here together. Brendon was acutely aware of the fact that when Pete had sent them back, he’d put Brendon back in his uniform. “Going to bend your rule for me?” he asked gently. 

Ryan’s smile wavered, then turned down at the corners. “I should probably take that sign down, anyway,” he said. “No one pays any attention. Brendon.” 

“I was just teasing,” Brendon hurried to assure him. “Hey. Show me your designs, too.” 

“Brendon knows all about the _D’jarra_ ,” Ryan said to Ginger. “Probably more than most Bajoran kids, these days.” 

“Oh?” Ginger arched a brow at him. 

Brendon shrugged. “I dunno. We learned a lot of cultural stuff at the Academy. I know a lot about a lot of cultures.” He hated it when people made a big deal about him knowing stuff. It should have felt good, but with his parents, nothing was good enough, and he’d got used to talking his achievements down instead of up. 

“Show me your designs,” he repeated, trying to divert attention. 

Ryan got it. He stretched his lips in a thin line, like he didn’t approve, but he didn’t press the issue any further. He drew out a tray of black velvet from the case, the bands of latinum and silver sparkling against the contrast. “These are some designs I’ve been putting together to represent the traditional _D’jarra_ while incorporating new careers and lifestyles, fashioned after the original concept of castes. 

“For example, this one…” He fished around in a drawer below his workstation and pulled out a long slender box. The earring inside shone bright silver. It was simpler than Ryan’s dangling, elaborate earring. Streamlined. Just the post of the earring, the cuff, and the chain between them and no more. “This one I made for Spencer. This,” he indicated the post—a simple flower with six petals with a single small diamond in the centre and even smaller chips of blue stone at the points, “indicates his original caste, _Ih’valla_. However this,” he traced his small finger along the pattern that trimmed the edge of the cuff; it looked like a highly stylised version of Bajoran writing. “This indicates the _Ke’lora_.” 

“Lawmen,” Brendon said and Ginger gave him a smile. He never would have thought of it, but it was perfect. 

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t even know if anyone will be interested. A lot of people grow attached to their earrings; besides, I can’t anticipate of which caste one was and to which they would now belong, so these are just examples. But I could make adjustments to current pieces as well, if someone wanted to keep their earring.” 

Ginger hugged him with one arm, tucking him against her. “It’s lovely, Ryan. I think you underestimate how well it will be taken, too. Without the castes we’re all trying to find our places, all over again.” 

Ryan flushed, like he was unused to praise. He had so much in common with Brendon, for being so incredibly different. “Can…can other people. Other than Bajorans. Can other people wear them?” He didn’t look at Ryan, afraid of what he might see. 

There was a long silence, almost painful. Then Ginger saved them from further awkwardness by saying, “Generally, outsiders do no wear our earrings, as they were not part of the caste system. They can, of course, purchase them if they desire, but publicly displaying them can be seen as insulting. The exception is aliens who marry into Bajoran families. If one has a Bajoran spouse, it is acceptable to wear an earring that represents the caste or family into which they have married.” 

Inexplicably, that made Brendon’s eyes sting. He knew it was stupid, he knew this was going to take work and Bajorans weren’t exactly trusting of strangers, and he knew Ryan in particular had issues with Humans and Starfleet and all of that. But all the same, it hurt that he couldn’t be a part of this, which was what Ryan did for a living, what he enjoyed doing, what he was good at doing. It was something that he and Spencer could share that Jon and Brendon couldn’t. 

Ryan changed the subject quickly, showing them some other things on which he’d been working. Perhaps it was pointed, to show Brendon that there were other things—he showed them rings and necklaces and bracelets and broaches, dropping comments about how they were popular with many different species. 

There was one ring in particular that caught Brendon’s eye, a spiral of dull gold with a small star at one end of the spiral, and a crescent moon at the other. When he mentioned his like for it, Ryan immediately took it out and slid it on his finger. Brendon wasn’t sure if Ryan knew the significance of the placement according to Human tradition, because he put it on Brendon’s wedding finger. 

Brendon almost wanted to refuse it because, well, it was a little desperate of Ryan, saying ‘no, you can’t be a part of what I do, but here’s a consolation prize.’ Only Ryan was clearly trying to please him, to show him something, and Brendon didn’t want to hurt him. They had to learn how to make this work without hurting each other. So he left it there, and maybe he liked the feel of it, even if it wasn’t the same as an earring. 

They eventually made their way into the back room. Spencer had made tea and they’d moved on from discussing politics to a play Ginger and Mister Smith had seen recently on Bajor. Spencer and Jon were sitting close together on the small sofa and Ginger took the only chair besides the one Mister Smith was already sitting on. Brendon vacillated for a second before Spencer reached out and grabbed his hips. He tugged him over, putting Brendon half in his lap, half in Jon’s. Ryan, smirking at him, perched more daintily on Spencer’s other knee. The Smiths didn’t even flinch. 

“You showing them my earring?” Spencer asked. 

Ryan nodded. “It’s really nice,” Brendon said. 

“Yeah? So when do I get it?” Spencer traced little circles on the small of Brendon’s back in an absent way. It made Brendon want to stretch and purr and stay in Spencer’s lap forever. 

“It’s still missing a few touches,” Ryan said, vague and enigmatic. 

“Brendon,” Mister Smith said, “Spencer tells me you’re learning to play the belaklavion.” 

“Oh,” Brendon started, fidgeting and looking down at his hands. “I was just messing a—” Spencer pinched his hip and Jon laid a hand over his, stopping his restless movements. 

“He’s really good,” Ryan said earnestly, eyes wide. “I mean, he plays it better than some people who’ve studied it, for, like, years. He just picked it up and started doing stuff, new stuff, before I even showed him anything.” 

“It’s not a big deal,” Brendon protested. “I learned how to play guitar when I was young. It’s similar, you know. I was just applying the same principle.” 

Ginger gave him that same assessing look she’d given them all before. “You should play something. You and Ryan, together.” 

He tried to protest again, but Ryan would hear none of it. They went together back to Ryan’s quarters, and that got them more than a few weird looks. Apparently Ryan’s dislike of Starfleet was well known, and seeing him walk down the Promenade with an arm around Spencer’s waist and his hand in Brendon’s raised some questions. Mutters followed them all the way, but Brendon didn’t particularly care what they thought, and Ryan held his head high like he didn’t notice. 

Ryan kept several instruments from Bajor. In addition to the belaklavion, he had another two stringed instruments, three different air instruments and a small percussion instrument. According to Ginger and Mister Smith, Spencer knew how to play a few of them as the _Ih’valla_ liked to be diverse. One day, Brendon was going to have to get him to play with them. For now, he was content to play with Ryan. He let Ryan start playing and just joined in, improvising, and it was nice, to play without any expectations, without his parents waiting for him to either excel or fail at it. 

Later Ginger made lunch and they sat around the table just talking, and it was so easy. Of course things had been easy when it was just them, because they fit, but Spencer’s parent’s were so laid back and relaxed. Talking to them was fun, especially when, despite the protests from Spencer and Ryan, they began telling the crazier stories from their youth. 

Mister Smith told a hilarious story from just the previous summer on Bajor, when he and Ginger had first moved to the planet’s surface. Spencer and Ryan had come for a couple of weeks to help fix up a few things. Their plan to refinish the cabinets ended in the cabinet doors having to be removed after becoming warped and no longer fitting their frames. Mister Smith promised to send pictures of the painting incident, where more paint ended up in Ryan’s hair and on Spencer’s face than on the walls. When they’d pitched in with the landscaping and stripped a huge patch of grass down to the dirt, Ginger had drawn the line and they’d been relegated to the simple tasks of weeding the gardens and hanging the pictures. 

“It’s much nicer, now,” Ginger said. “Even the lawn has had time to recover.” Spencer rolled his eyes. 

“You should come visit,” Mister Smith said. “All of you, when you get the chance.” 

“I’ve never been to Bajor,” Jon said. 

“Well, it’s no Risa, to be sure,” Mister Smith said. 

“Risa isn’t that special,” Jon assured him. He had the self-deprecating smile that he’d had the first time Brendon had met him and that he’d thought was charming. Now it sort of made him pissed off that someone had sometime made Jon feel bad about being Risian. Jon was so easy-going that whatever had happened had to have been bad. 

Brendon looked at Ryan, because yeah, he’d like to go to Bajor and stay with Spencer’s parents. Maybe he’d get an idea of what parents were supposed to be like. But it had to be up to Ryan. Ryan shrugged. “It could be fun,” he said casually. “Maybe when you have a couple days off in a row we could get a shuttle down.” 

Spencer beamed at them. “You guys can meet Crystal and we can go to the Holona River and the temple.” He sounded almost like a child with his excitement. It was infectious, made Brendon bounce in eagerness. He’d look at his extended duty schedule as soon as possible so they could plan a time to go. 

After Spencer’s parents left Brendon was worried it might be awkward. On Pete’s station they’d been happy to see each other, and, well, drunk and horny. Now, they were back and there wasn’t anyone left around to whom they had to prove a point. 

Jon pretty much put those fears to an end by instigating a group make-out session on the sofa. It was a little weird, figuring out where everyone fit. Ryan was all bony angles and Spencer was tall and curvy and Jon was short but surprisingly hard with muscle, and Brendon had never fit right with any of the people he’d slept with before, girls or guys. This…worked. There were some elbows in throats and accidental licking of eyes, but between the laughter and play fighting that ensued, it worked. 

They remained in a pile, sharing languid kisses and caresses without the same urgency as the night before. There was the promise of it in the tilt and slide of hips and hands finding their way beneath clothing, but Brendon was just content laying here making out all day and his…lovers…fine, yes, lovers, seemed happy to go along with it. 

Jon made them all watch stupid movies that he’d seen with _The Academy_. Ryan kept rolling his eyes and trying not to laugh. Brendon could tell by the tugging at the corners of his lips. Brendon and Spencer didn’t care, and Brendon wouldn’t have thought that Spencer would be the type to go for body humour, but it was fun, to just press their shoulders together and laugh until it hurt. 

Brendon insisted they replicate pizza and popcorn and soda for dinner so that they had an authentic, Earth movie-watching experience, since four out of the five movies were from Earth (and Brendon decided he was just going to blame the weird Earth entertainment obsession on some Q-quirk of Pete’s). 

Spencer was delighted by the fizziness of the soda, but it kept making Ryan sneeze, which made Jon ask Ryan if they’d accidentally got him pregnant last night. Ryan made this big deal out of eating the pizza, peeling off all the toppings, then licking off the sauce in a sort of obscene way that had them all staring at him with open mouths and glazed eyes. When Brendon kissed him after he tasted like the cherry of the soda and mozzarella and Ryan laughed and turned away from the kiss quickly to sneeze. 

Brendon pressed his face into Ryan’s shoulder and laughed. Jon poked Ryan in the stomach and said, “You are so carrying our love children.” 

“Fuck off, Walker,” Ryan grumbled, but he was blushing. Brendon wanted kids. Some distant, far, far, far away day, after a lot more sex and not having kids. But even though Jon was joking, it was kind of neat, thinking about it. 

“Don’t even look at me like that,” Ryan told him warily. “I’m so not the girl here. It would ruin my figure. If Jon wants a love child, he can have it.” 

After dinner, Spencer challenged Jon to a rematch of their chess game from before they’d left. Though, when Brendon glanced over every now and then, this version of the game involved some sort of weird kisses-for-pieces trade. Brendon might have been interested in joining, but Ryan still had the instruments out and started showing Brendon some more advanced parts on the belaklavion. He kept helping Brendon rearrange his fingers, sliding closer and closer until he was practically in Brendon’s lap. He either ignored or didn’t notice that Brendon was still in uniform, but once, the little clear stone on the ring Ryan had given him glinted as he played and Ryan picked up his hand, kissing the finger. 

Then Brendon chanced another look at the others, and somehow, entirely without attracting his attention, Spencer had got on his knees between Jon’s legs. Jon’s head was thrown back and his dick was in Spencer’s mouth. Brendon’s breath caught at the sight and he went hard pretty much at once. 

Ryan followed his gaze, watching and pressing his lips to Brendon’s knuckles. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin between Brendon’s fingers, tongue flicking out in little teasing swipes. It was a simple touch, but it shot up his arm and tickled at the back of his neck. Somehow they went from holding the instruments and sitting beside one another to Ryan giving up on pretence and climbing completely into his lap, the belaklavions being set aside, mouths open and hungry. 

“Brendon,” Ryan panted into him. Brendon looked up at him, their foreheads pressed together. Ryan’s eyes were squeezed shut tight. He opened them again and leaned back purposefully. His fingers traced down Brendon’s jaw, over his neck. He tapped a nail against the pip on Brendon’s collar. “Show me how to take this off.” 

“Here.” Brendon took their joined hands to the edge of his jacket, helping him find the hidden fastening. Together they separated the pieces. Ryan smoothed his hands up Brendon’s chest, pushing the jacked over his shoulders and down his arms, throwing it aside. His fingers scrambled at Brendon’s waist, tugging the turtleneck free and pulling it up. Brendon raised his arms to help him get it off. 

“Seriously,” Ryan muttered, when he reached the tank top beneath. “How many layers can you possibly need?” Brendon chuckled, kissed him and pulled away just long enough to get the tank over his head and for Ryan to get his one and only shirt off. 

Their lips met again and Ryan’s hands strayed back to Brendon’s waistband, tickling the skin just inside. He found the fastening there himself, peeling it apart. “Starfleet underwear, Urie?” he teased. 

“Bite me, _Ross_ , it’s regulation,” Brendon said and hissed when Ryan did bite him, just under his jaw. He was going to have to get a dermal regenerator to keep on hand, living with these three, and their tendency to mark him. 

They managed to get Brendon naked through a combination of wiggling and lifted hips. Ryan got off his lap long enough to shimmy out of the rest of his clothes, too. He settled back down, sliding their hips together. 

At some point, far later in the evening, all four found their way into the bedroom. Brendon had never been in it before, and it would definitely need a bigger bed (though he wasn’t going to complain about being pressed tight between Spencer and Ryan with Jon’s legs tangled through). Still, Brendon liked it. Ryan mumbled to the computer, telling it to wake them in time for Brendon to get up for duty. 

Ryan had completely done away with the grey everything and replaced it with warm yellows, golds and oranges. It was peaceful and rich looking. He’d blocked out the windows with Roman blinds, but on the ceiling were dimly sparkling lights. They provided less illumination than actual stars, and weren’t in any particular pattern, but they cast a soft glow over Spencer’s face that made him look even more beautiful than usual. 

He kept watching him until he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Jon’s thumb was rubbing gently up and down his arm; Ryan’s breath was hot on the back of Brendon’s neck every time he exhaled and his arm was snug around Brendon’s waist. “Go to sleep, Bren,” Spencer muttered without opening his eyes, voice slurred with sleep. “We’ll still be here tomorrow.” 

That wasn’t even the problem. He knew they would be. He wasn’t worried. He could have worried about a lot of things, like what his parents would say when he spoke with them next, or what exactly Dax and Sisko had in mind for him, or whatever. But he wasn’t worried about this. And the rest of it seemed small in comparison. 

He just wanted to _see_ Spencer, because he’d gone twenty-two years without seeing him, and it was too long. No matter how much time they had, it wouldn’t be enough to see the curve of Spencer’s lips, or the black of Ryan’s lashes against the pale of his cheek, or the way Jon’s hair fell over his forehead, giving away glints of gold. 

Brendon never remembered his dreams. 

Φ

Ryan half-woke when Brendon silenced the computer’s alarm and was aware of Brendon and Spencer untangling themselves from Ryan and Jon, trying to be quiet and careful about it. Spencer didn’t have to be at work until 0900, but he did better on little sleep than Ryan did, and he heard him say something to Brendon about getting breakfast together. 

Jon mumbled in his sleep and rolled over, snuggling into Ryan’s side. The shower started running and the sound of it soothed him back into a light sleep. Water-cooled lips pressed against his temple and at the corner of his mouth and Ryan smiled at the touches, because he knew which belonged to Spencer, and which to Brendon, just from the pressure and the texture of each. 

When he woke for real, it was to Jon’s hands pushing up his sleep shirt, and his mouth was hot on Ryan’s stomach, sucking at his navel, licking and biting ‘til Ryan was panting. He arched his back, lifted his hips, tried to be subtle about it. But Jon bit the waistband of his pants and tugged a little, looking at Ryan from under his lashes, eyes devious. 

“Please,” Ryan whispered, and his voice sounded hoarse and alien. He put his hand in Jon’s hair, not pushing…well, maybe a little. “Please, Jon.” 

That was what he’d been waiting for. He dipped his head lower, rubbing his nose against Ryan’s erection through the thin material of his pants, opened his mouth, breath damp and hot. 

“Shit.” Ryan fingers tightened in Jon’s hair and Jon started mouthing him through his pants and there was the added friction. Jon kept sucking until his pants were soaking wet and Ryan started keening. He didn’t really care if he sounded desperate. 

Jon lifted his head just enough to look at him, straining against the tug in his hair. He grabbed the waistband, pulling it down, catching on Ryan’s dick and Ryan hurried to help him get rid of the pants. “Now,” Jon said, voice light. “This is my first time giving a blowjob, so you’ll need to let me know if I’m doing it wrong.” 

And _fuck_ , Ryan needed time to think about and process that, because he was incredibly turned on and everything, but there was never going to be another first time, and he felt a little guilty taking it without Brendon and Spencer. 

Then Jon started licking at the head of his cock and he remembered that he’d just watched while Brendon and Spencer had fucked Jon for the first time, so he so totally deserved this. There could be a re-enactment later. It would be awesome. 

Later, boneless and content, they cuddled together, and maybe Jon was just the sort of person who allowed him to be honest, or maybe Ryan was, like, growing as a person or something, but it didn’t hurt to give away the personal thoughts that came to him. “I hate living on this station,” he grumbled. Not in a hate-my-life sort of way, but in a general sort of bitching way. 

“Whyzat?” It was like open-mouthed kisses against his skin. Ryan smiled and let his fingers toy in Jon’s hair. 

“I miss waking up and having light creep around the blinds. Or being able to tell the time from the way the room grows dim.” It wasn’t that Ryan disliked outer space, really. There wasn’t any planet with which he felt a connection, no place in particular he wanted to live. Still, this particular station came with its own special set of issues, being the place where he and Spencer and his family had been kept as slaves. He didn’t even mind saying as much to Jon, who just listened and hummed in agreement and stroked his hands over Ryan’s arms and sides. 

They finally tumbled out of bed sometime in the early afternoon and went to drag Spencer off to lunch. Spencer took one look at them and knew what they’d been doing. “You’re such a whore, Ross,” he said. 

“Yeah, well, don’t think I don’t know what you were doing with Brendon in the shower this morning,” Ryan said loftily. 

Jon left him after lunch, and no amount of clinging and slow kisses could persuade him to go with Ryan back to one of their quarters. “I’m supposed to be working with an Engineer on the Promenade; we’re doing some work on some of the shops. I have to earn my keep, you know.” 

“I’ll keep you,” Ryan said, with what he hoped was a seductive smile. 

“I’m no one’s kept man, Ross,” Jon said. He gave him a smile like a slow burn and tugged Ryan by the hips for another kiss. “Why don’t you go bother Brendon? He should be getting off soon.” The words might have stung if Jon hadn’t said them with such affection. 

The store was crowded; friends of Ginger’s and Spencer’s visiting, curious Bajorans who’d heard about Ryan’s confinement and subsequent escape. Even just walking down the Promenade, Ryan had heard the rumours and questions following him. DS9 was at maximum capacity population wise—however, that only meant roughly 7,000 people, and word carried fast. He didn’t have any plans to hide his relationship, but he didn’t particularly feel like announcing it to everyone, or anything. Everyone apparently didn’t care about his intentions, desperate for the slightest bit of news. 

He managed to work for a couple hours, working on new pieces and shooting death glares at anyone who directed any less-than-professional inquiries his way. Spencer was great about deflecting the rumourmongers. Ryan felt a happy, content little glow every time Spencer did it; Ryan didn’t know what a real father was supposed to be like, but Spencer was a nice substitute. 

As 1500 approached, he started getting anxious. He would have liked to just stay put and have Brendon come to him. He wanted a do-over. He wanted Brendon to just stroll in casually like he had before, and then Ryan _wouldn’t_ freak out. At the same time, he really didn’t feel like causing a scene for all the customers. He sent a wave to Brendon’s shift station. _Meet me a Quark’s when your shift is finished_. 

Brendon had changed. Ryan would have felt guilty about that except that Brendon usually changed, which explained why it had taken Ryan so long to figure out he was with Starfleet. Besides, as much as he wanted to prove a point, Brendon looked a lot more comfortable in his tight jeans and purple zip-up jacket. He waved when he saw Ryan and began weaving through the crowd to reach him. 

“Hey,” he leaned over the table to kiss Ryan’s upturned face. He did it in a completely thoughtless sort of way—like he just wanted to kiss Ryan, not like he felt he had anything to prove to anyone. “Where’s Jon?” 

“Doing _work_ ,” Ryan said, faux-scorn. 

“Geez, what a loser.” Brendon rolled his eyes. His foot nudged Ryan’s under the table. Taking a leaf from Jon’s book, he was wearing sandals, and his toes quickly found their way inside the leg of Ryan’s pants, tickling the bare skin of his ankle. Ryan bit his lip against a smile. 

“So, what did Sisko want from you?” Ryan asked. Brendon had mentioned it in passing the night before, and looked so excited and nervous that Ryan had to be interested on his behalf or he’d be the worst boyfriend ever. 

Brendon shook his head. “Later. I can’t talk about it here. Besides, Jon and Spence should hear it, too.” 

Over Brendon’s shoulder, Ryan saw a wave of Starfleet uniforms enter the bar. Probably on the same shift as Brendon. Only a couple of them broke off from the crowd and headed toward their table. Cold dread settled in Ryan’s blood. 

“Urie.” The Bolian helped herself to the seat on Brendon’s left, and maybe all Starfleet officers were just that bold. She eyed Ryan like he was some wild, unpredictable animal. “Ross,” she greeted. 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said coolly. “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.” He tried to keep his distaste out of his tone. 

“Ryan,” Brendon said. He looked between Ryan, the Bolian and the other two officers. “This is Ensign Dorios, Lieutenant Remsal and Ensign Colleen.” 

“Way to get kidnapped during your first week,” Dorios said to Brendon, and Ryan bristled, even though she was obviously joking. 

Brendon just gave them a little self-deprecating smirk. “Yeah. Good thing Ryan came after me,” he said. He snatched Ryan’s hand off the table, holding it tight in his. He gave him an inexplicably smug look. 

“Seriously,” Colleen said. “Leave it to Starfleet to lock up someone who actually cares and wants to help instead of doing something useful.” She was a sweet-looking Bajoran with pale hair and bright eyes, and Ryan would never stop being confused by Bajoran Starfleet officers. 

“Um.” Ryan shifted uncomfortably. He was used to being the only person around who would criticise Starfleet. “Yeah.” Colleen gave him a sparkling smile at that. 

Remsal had asked Brendon a question full of long scientific terms that Ryan didn’t even remotely understand, and now they and Dorios were discussing it together. Colleen, dressed in yellow, either didn’t follow it or didn’t care, because she kept her attention on Ryan. “I heard you were working on some new designs,” she said. 

“What?” He cut his gaze to her briefly before looking back at Brendon. 

“The new earrings you’re making,” Colleen clarified. He looked at her again, longer this time. He recognised her earring as one of the special designs he’d created when he’d first taken over the shop. 

“Oh,” he said dumbly. “Yeah.” 

“I think it sounds like a really interesting idea,” Colleen said. “I feel weird, sometimes, wearing this.” She fingered the design, indicating the _Mi’tino_ landowners and merchants. “I mean, it doesn’t have anything to do with who the Colleen family are any longer. My father was a general during the Occupation; I’m with Starfleet, you know?” 

Ryan kind of did. He nodded his head warily. She was going to say something stupid or offensive any minute now, and then he was going to have to be a bitch, and it would embarrass Brendon and be awful. Only, she didn’t say anything stupid or offensive. She just kept being irrepressibly sweet and occasionally funny as she went on the tell him just what she’d like her earring to represent, and stemming from that, her interests and why she’d joined Starfleet, which maybe wasn’t as understandable or acceptable as Brendon’s reasoning, but still okay. 

Just the five of them sitting around was okay. Brendon kept Remsal and Dorios distracted, though Dorios had traded a few words with Ryan and she seemed okay, too, if a little gossipy. At least she hadn’t said anything about Ryan and Brendon’s relationship. But after a while, several other officers entered and from the calling of names and greetings, it was clear they were friends of those at the table. Ryan’s hand tightened reflexively. Four Starfleet officers at the table he could stand, if one of them was Brendon and the other was Colleen. But ten was never going to happen. 

Brendon squeezed his hand back. As if reading his mind, he cleared his throat and said, “You know, we have to meet Jon and Spence, soon. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” 

Dorios gave him a little wave. Colleen put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and he was very proud with himself for not flinching. “Can I come by your shop some time? Look over ideas?” 

Ryan nodded, mouth dry. He could feel Brendon watching him, so he made himself reach out a little. “I can try a few sketches with what you’ve told me.” 

Colleen gave another one of her big smiles. “Great. I’ll send you a wave.” 

Brendon held his hand all the way to the lift and once they were inside and away from all the prying eyes of the Promenade, Ryan gave in and put his head on Brendon’s shoulder. He felt shaky and weird. “I don’t want to do that again,” he said into the fabric of Brendon’s uniform. Brendon put an arm around him, hand steady and reassuring on his back. “Maybe one at a time.” 

“You don’t have to see any of them,” Brendon said. He pressed a kiss on Ryan’s hair. 

“It’s okay,” Ryan said, although he wasn’t entirely sure it was. Still, he had to try. “Colleen was…nice. And Dorios and Remsal don’t seem awful.” 

Brendon squeezed his waist, steering him down the hall. Ryan realised he was being led to Brendon’s quarters. He didn’t really care which of their rooms they ended up in, but he distinctly remembered Brendon saying something in bed last night, about staying in Ryan’s. 

“I just want to get some stuff to bring to your place,” Brendon said. He sounded inexplicably nervous. “Some different clothes, you know, and my pillow and…I mean, if you don’t care.” 

Ryan laughed. It was ridiculous, how adorable Brendon’s insecurity was. He’d been so bold before they were lovers. Still was in lots of little ways that he probably didn’t notice. “Brendon.” He stopped Brendon outside the door. “ _Our_ place. Mine and Spencer’s and Jon’s. And yours.” Brendon hung his head. 

“Why are you being so weird about this?” Ryan asked, smile faltering. 

“I just. I haven’t had a lot of relationships, and none of them ended well, and I tried this moving-in thing once and it didn’t work out at _all,_ and I’m not really looking forward to the part where you burn all my stuff and kick me out and tell me you never want to see my face again, and then spread all sorts of horrible rumours about me,” Brendon said, all in one rushed breath. 

“You’re stupid,” Ryan said fondly. “That isn’t going to happen with us. I’ve never gotten to the moving-in point, because it’s never been right. We’re right. And you know, you don’t even have to call it ‘moving in’ if you don’t want, but do you seriously think that me, or Jon, or Spencer are going to let you get out of bed in the middle of the night to come back here? Because that’s _stupid_.” He kicked Brendon’s ankle. 

Brendon chuckled softly, a little sadly. “Okay. I’m stupid. I’ll try to stop. It might take a while.” Ryan hated the negativity and hopelessness in Brendon’s tone. That was Ryan’s deal, and he was good at handling it in himself, but in someone he loved, he just felt useless. 

“Come on,” Ryan said, tugging on his hands. “Let’s get your stuff. Spencer will be getting off work soon and he can help me convince you of your stupidity.” 

The door opened and Brendon stopped short halfway through the room. There was a man in casual Cardassian clothing standing by the window. He turned to look at them and Ryan could guess from his features and fashion that he had to be Clark Urie. And, okay, maybe he was ready for meeting one or two of Brendon’s friends from work, but he was totally unprepared for family. Especially when Brendon’s family were like, the Starfleet model. And especially when the family member in question happened to be the ambassador to the Cardassians. 

“Clark,” Brendon said. He dropped Ryan’s hand, and that stung. 

“Brendon,” Clark said. He held out his arms and Brendon hugged him quickly, perfunctorily. “And…”

“Ryan,” Brendon said. 

“Maybe I should go,” Ryan said. He turned and Brendon didn’t try to stop him. Clark said, “Ryan. Mom and Dad mentioned something about you.” Ryan looked at him over his shoulder and thought it would be nice if he just shut up. Then he smiled at Brendon. “And two other guys.” 

Brendon flushed and scowled. It wasn’t in a nice way. “Mom and Dad can go to hell. What, did they send you here to try and set me straight, or something? Be a mouthpiece for some more of their hypocritical, speciesest ideas about relationships?” 

“That was the idea,” Clark said. He had an easy, laid-back way about him. “I came as soon as I heard you were missing and since I was the closest, they thought I was the best option. I told them they could go to hell. Only, not in those terms. Nor, apparently, quite as colourfully as you did. Which, by the way, Jarod and Kara would like me to pass on a ‘good job.’” 

“What?” Brendon asked dumbly. Ryan turned fully around to watch them. He touched Brendon’s shoulder lightly and Brendon tensed at first, but he relaxed quickly. 

“Seriously, Brendon, did you think I was coming here to yell at you?” Clark looked bewildered. “You were missing. I was worried. I was already almost here when I heard you were back, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. So I just came anyway. And I really don’t care how many people you’re seeing. I’m getting married to a Cardassian, so I guess I just have to thank you for giving Mom and Dad something bigger to bitch about so they finally got off my case.” 

Brendon flinched a couple of times, like he didn’t know how to take it. “Aridanna’s actually going to marry you?” he said finally. 

“Aridanna?” Ryan said. He hadn’t meant to. He’d meant to stay quiet and maybe sneak out or something. “That’s a Bajoran name.” 

Clark looked at him. “Aridanna was born during the Occupation,” he said. “She’s half Bajoran. Does that make it better?” 

Ryan opened his mouth to say something then shut it with a snap. Brendon scowled at his brother. “Don’t be a dick,” he said. 

“He’s the one judging me for marrying a Cardassian,” Clark shot back.

Ryan stiffened all over. “Can you blame me?”

“Pretty much, yeah. How’s you hating a person just ‘cause they’re Cardassian any different from my parents hating you just because you’re sleeping with my brother?” Clark challenged. 

“Clark!” Brendon shouted. 

“Anyway, whatever. I didn’t come here to cause a problem,” Clark said. 

“It’s alright,” Ryan said, surprising even himself, because he found it was the truth. “I’m sorry. I really should go.” 

“Please,” Brendon said. He caught Ryan’s hand again and didn’t let go, even when Ryan tugged. 

“Ryan,” Clark said. “I don’t want to fight with you. If you’re important to Brendon, you’re important to me. I wanted to meet you. And the others.” 

“I…” Ryan swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I—the Occupation sort of fucked with my ability to be rational about things.” 

“Understandable,” Clark said. “If it helps, I chose Cardassia as my focus so I could make sure nothing like the Occupation would ever happen again.” Ryan nodded shakily. Clark didn’t owe him that much—hell, he didn’t owe him any sort of explanation at all. 

“Are your other boys going to hate me more or less, like, on a scale? Ten being hate a lot,” Clark asked. 

Ryan, damn it, couldn’t fight it. He laughed, maybe, just a little. “Jon and Spence are way easier than me,” he said. 

Clark gave him a smile. “Thank god.” He looked at his brother. “Will you have dinner with us? Aridanna and I have the ambassador’s quarters on the _Valiant_. They’re pretty huge. I think we could all fit comfortably.” 

Brendon gave him a questioning look, putting it in Ryan’s hands. Ryan hated it, but he felt ridiculous. Clark probably thought he was little better than a child throwing a temper tantrum. He could do better—with the Starfleet thing, with Brendon’s family, with Cardassians in general—he _would_ do better. 

“Dinner sounds lovely,” Ryan said. 

Clark left them after deciding on meeting at 1900 for dinner. “You didn’t have to,” Brendon started. “I mean, you still don’t, not if you’re not comfortable.” 

“What, and let you all go without me? Brendon, I’m in this as much as Spencer and Jon are. And besides, I want to have dinner with them. He seems…What he said, about the people important to you being important to him? Me, too. I feel that way, too. And it wasn’t like he wasn’t right about me. I can be an asshole.” 

Saying things like that was getting easier and easier. He still couldn’t believe that it had been less than a month ago that he’d been living out of the jewellery store, spending hours researching stories and the rest of his time working on designs for the shop. When Spencer had to force him to go out, and remind him to eat and had pretty much given up on making Ryan share any of what was going on in his head. It was sort of amazing and a little scary, how fast it had all changed, and was still changing. 

“Are you going to freak out on me?” Brendon asked, and Ryan wondered how long he’d been silent. “Come on, let’s go get Spencer and he can tell us both how stupid we’re being.” 

The kiss Brendon gave him was slow and tender. He tasted like whatever he’d been drinking at Quark’s, sugary and fruity with a sharp bite of mint. “We’re really lucky that Jon and Spencer combined have about a quarter of our issues.” Brendon smiled against Ryan’s pulse. 

He didn’t mean to, really, but Brendon’s lips against his neck made his breath go quick and then they were stumbling to the bed, tearing off clothes as they went. “Pink satin, Brendon?” Ryan teased as he fell back on the comforter. Brendon shut him up with another kiss, pressing him back. 

By the time they got dressed (Ryan slipping on a pair of Brendon’s jeans, and those were really comfortable, if a little short and loose), it was past time for Spencer to be off, and when they found him in his quarters, Jon was already with him. Spencer was weird about dinner, but Ryan knew it was on his behalf. 

All the same, despite his reservations and Spencer’s, dinner went really well. Aridanna was pleasant and fiercely intelligent and yeah, it was hard, sitting across the table from someone who, from all outward appearances, was Cardassian. She had been raised by a Cardassian mother on Cardassia Prime, and in some ways she was very much like the Cardassians that Ryan had known, who had been his masters. But then she started talking about all the policies she was working on to change, and revealed that her mother had been a supporter of Bajorans. She’d helped them even before the end of the Occupation, and had taught her daughter to respect all life. It was strange, to hear lessons like that being taught from one Cardassian to another. 

Clark, when he wasn’t being confrontational, was a pretty decent man. He was fairly easy going, in ways different from his brother, but he didn’t so much bat an eye when introduced to Spencer and Jon. Then, after dessert, when they were all just sitting around, he carried on a two hour conversation with Jon about warp cores and energy cells and biometrics. If left Ryan’s head spinning with confusion, and even Brendon’s eyes got glazed over, but Jon really enjoyed it. 

In bed that night, Ryan lay sweaty and slightly sore and listened to Spencer and Brendon fall asleep quickly, thinking. “Okay?” Jon asked sleepily. His hands never stopped roaming down Ryan’s arm. 

Surprising, it wasn’t a lie when Ryan smiled and said, “Yeah. Terrific.” And, it earned him a kiss. 

Χ

It didn’t come as any big surprise when Brendon was the first one to do a real freak out. 

“This isn’t going to work,” Brendon said one night, apropos nothing. He was on second shift and everyone else was already back in their rooms. They’d all looked up from the movie, waiting for him to explain. “Us. Four of us. It isn’t going to work. It’s hard enough keeping two people together. Someone’s going to get jealous, or two of you are going to decide that you’d rather just be two, or—” He’d broken off, voice going high. “It just. It won’t work. I’m sorry.” 

They’d waited all of an hour before they followed him to his quarters. Ryan had been furious, calling him all sorts of names, coward, mostly, and the Starfleet thing got thrown around, inexplicably. 

Spencer had been pretty pissed, too. “You know what, Brendon, _fuck you_. Okay? You don’t get to be the victim here, okay? You don’t get to be the one left out. Fuck _you_ ‘two of you are going to decide.’ Two of us? What the fuck? You just decide that it has to be two of us who are going to do it, so you’re just going to beat us to the punch and that doesn’t make you just as bad?” 

And when he’d looked like he was about to start throwing punches, Jon stepped in and got to be calm and rational even though he was seething, too. He didn’t yell at Brendon then. But later, when Brendon finally stopped being an asshole and everyone was done yelling, Jon took it out on him in bed. Brendon didn’t really complain, because he liked it rough. Still, when they were all lying in bed he had to talk to him about it—all of them. 

He spelled out his worries about not being enough for them individually, and how he got jealous sometimes of the way Spencer knew things about Ryan that neither he nor Jon did. How Jon seemed to handle Ryan more delicately than any of them, and how he had this smile that was just Spencer’s alone. How Ryan sometimes didn’t want to talk at all and most of the time only Spencer could, but sometimes Jon. 

“And sometimes you,” Ryan said. He kept his voice soft, like he was worried Brendon might leave again. 

“Brendon,” Spencer growled. “If I thought for a second you were just doing this for attention, I’d smother you while you slept. So I’m just going to say this now: we could probably do this without you. If you left us, we would. But we don’t _want_ to. When Jon kissed us for the first time, it felt wrong, because you weren’t there.” 

“It didn’t work when it was just me and Spencer,” Ryan murmured. “And it wasn’t right when it was just me and Spencer and Jon. I might have come to recognise what was between Spencer and me if you two had never shown up, but I don’t know if I ever would have been confident enough. I need each of you.” 

Later, Jon did some research on plural marriages throughout the galaxy and stored it all on a pad, which he gave to Brendon. Brendon knew it only made them angry or worried them when he brought up his concerns, so after that he kept quiet about it. But in his quiet, he paid attention. And he saw that part of what he loved about Spencer and Ryan was the way they loved one another, and then he saw that Spencer handled Ryan delicately, too, and then he realised he did, too. And he realised that he’d told Spencer things he hadn’t told the rest of them, though suddenly he wanted to, and he noticed they all had a smile that was his alone. 

It was a painful realisation, and slow, and if he hadn’t loved them so much, and if they hadn’t fought him so hard he would have just given up a long time ago. But then he came out of it and when he did it was even better. He could watch Ryan and Jon or Ryan and Spencer or Spencer and Jon together without the slightest twinge of jealousy. In fact, he could watch them with contentment and happiness and this feeling of right. Because it was all about the four of them, but within that there were six sets of two that were dependant on the whole. And that was when he stopped worrying about anyone leaving. 

There were still the small fights of day to day life—who ate the last of the fresh fruit, who stole Jon’s favourite sandals, who spent too much time on work and forgot to eat (mostly all about Ryan with everyone ganging up on him), and little things about their pasts that surfaced now and then, whether rational or not. But these were usually cured pretty quickly with the application of cuddles, or ice cream, or really amazing sex. 

And really, it just _worked_. 

Ψ

Most weekends they ended up at Pete’s station or on various ships of his fleet. Brendon had revealed to them that his special mission from Sisko was to gather all the information on the Dominion that he could, and in turn Sisko was willing to look the other way about Brendon disappearing inexplicably and sometimes missing a shift here and there. It worked particularly well since the _Helena_ was already trying to get information to other, less-than-willing Starfleet captains. It also didn’t hurt that Gabe and William thought it was great fun to do undercover work as the scary Changeling and his frightened, servile Vorta. All relationships had their weird kinks. 

After six months, Brendon earned his first bit of accumulated leave and then none of them could decide where they wanted to go until Jon took over and said leave it to him, and that was easy enough. 

“Jon, Jon, Jon, Jon,” Brendon sing-songed, on the shuttle. “Jon, where are we _going_?” and Jon just sealed his lips shut and smirked and they found creative ways to keep Brendon quiet on the way. 

Maybe they weren’t all that surprised that Jon had chosen Risa, but they were all excited to be there. He was a little nervous taking them to meet his family and friends—they had the tendency to hit on anyone they found vaguely attractive. Not that Jon thought any of his lovers would go for it, but it was still awkward. So he’d got them a villa on the cliffs of Suraya Bay, built right into the wall, accessible only by the boat he’d also rented. That way they could visit his family on their own time. 

On the first evening there they went out on the boat, swimming in the waters that were always the right temperature, no matter the time of day. Jon and Brendon ganged up on Spencer and Ryan, thoroughly dunking them despite their protests. For some reason, every time they went swimming Spencer always tried to keep his hair from getting wet, no matter how many times they foiled him. 

Spencer made them dinner in the galley and they ate and drank wine under the double moons. Jon told them the stories of the constellations and Brendon made up his own. “It’s a triceratops, see,” he said eagerly. 

“A triceratops,” Spencer echoed blankly. They were laid out over a blanket, heads together. 

“A dinosaur. They were lizards that lived on Earth millions of years before Humans,” Brendon said dismissively. He took Spencer’s hand, pointed it towards the sky. “There are its horns, see. The called it triceratops because it had three horns, two big ones by the frill and a smaller one between the eyes.” Jon followed the sweep of Spencer’s finger, led at the wrist by Brendon, imagined he knew what a triceratops looked like. 

“And that one’s a lion,” Jon said. He was rather fond of lions, after having seen one for the first time in Pete’s zoo and then seeing the cartoon that Brendon loved. There wasn’t a lion in the Risian zodiac, and Jon thought that was a real shame. 

“Show me,” Brendon said, and Jon guided his hand around the mane. 

Ryan got up and kissed Jon on the brow as he went. When he came back he sat facing them. Spencer sat up with him, watching him as Ryan gave them each a small box and kept a fourth for himself. “I wanted to wait until it was right. I kept putting it off for stupid reasons. And recently, I’ve realised just how stupid the reasons were. I love you.” 

Brendon opened his first, jaw tightening when he saw what was inside. Curious, Jon sat up and opened his. It was one of the earrings like Spencer and Ryan wore, made of yellow gold. The post was small, an abstract, arching shape covered in Bajoran script. The cuff was small, would probably be hidden by his hair. On it, among the symbols and writing, he saw a symbol that was the exact match of the one he bore on his forehead. 

Spencer opened his and put it on at once, a platinum flower with blue and white stones. Brendon held his up delicately between two fingers, a white gold stylised triangle that roughly resembled the Starfleet emblem, with three delicate chains connected to the cuff strung in green and silver jewels. Ryan put on his, too, warm golden latinum circles and a large amber stone, several dangling strands full of charms that matched the symbols etched on Spencer’s, Brendon’s and Jon’s. 

Ryan stared at the ground, waiting. “I know…I know you two will have to get your ear pierced, and I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to. You can just keep them—”

“What does it mean?” Jon asked before Ryan really got going, doubting himself and them. Ryan looked at him hesitantly and cut his gaze at Brendon, who had rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows and was carefully avoiding eye contact with all of them. 

“Mine and Spencer’s indicate our castes, past and present. These marks on yours,” he indicated the post, “indicate the _Te’nari_ caste of skilled craftsmen. The ones on Brendon’s indicate the _Va’telo_ caste, which was the closest I could come up with for Brendon. It was for pilots and sailors and explorers. The rest of your symbols indicate Spencer, Brendon and myself, and our relationship to you. I had to make it up; there isn’t really a precedent for a relationship like ours.” 

Spencer pulled Ryan to him with an arm around his waist, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck just below where the earring dangled. Jon wished he had his camera on hand to see them like that forever. 

“Know someone who can pierce my ear?” Jon asked. 

Ryan’s face lit up and he nodded. “Spencer or I can do it. Brendon?” 

“You didn’t have to,” Brendon said. “I love you anyway.” 

“Of course I didn’t have to,” Ryan said, somewhat sourly. “But if we’re redefining the castes to fit who we are now, we have to acknowledge that it isn’t just Bajorans who can fit these roles. And you and Jon are part of who Spencer and I are now. I wanted to give you this Brendon. So stop being a dick, okay?” 

Jon waited, holding his breath. Sometimes, he reflected, things would be easier if it was just him and Spencer, who didn’t have all the emotional baggage that Ryan and Brendon did, who didn’t push buttons and feel the need to try to get a rise out of each other. 

Brendon bit his lip like he was trying not to smile. “I suppose one of you will have to pierce my ear, too,” he said. Ryan gave a little happy sigh and Jon let out the breath he’d been holding. Spencer punched Ryan and Brendon both on the arms and muttered, “idiots.” 

Spencer replicated ice and a piercing needle when they got back to the villa and he pierced Jon’s ear while Ryan pierced Brendon’s, and it was a little kinky, how fixated Ryan was on sucking on their ears around the cuff. And even though his ear was still a little tender, Jon wasn’t going to complain, because the little stab of pain just made it better. 

Jon hadn’t really planned anything beyond getting them to Risa; he figured they’d just go with it when they got there. Spencer was plenty happy with lying around on the veranda, sipping drinks and listening to music or Jon and Brendon arguing over movies, or Ryan talking over them, coming up with lyrics to the music Brendon and Jon plucked out on guitars and belaklavion. Ryan was content with sampling the local cuisine and dragging them off to clubs at night, dancing together in the press of bodies and tumbling them into bed, tipsy and horny. Jon was fine with all of this. 

But Brendon had plans. “I want to go climbing,” he said. “I heard about the cliffs at Galartha in the Academy and I’ve wanted to go ever since.” 

He’d got brochures on everything when they’d arrived, fished out the pad on Galartha and recited, “Galartha is a popular rock-climbing destination on Risa, frequented by natives and tourists alike. Beginners can take belaying classes at the training facilities on the beach, while pros can head straight for the rock face. Climbers looking for extra challenge find Galartha the perfect goal—as you climb the pitches and handholds change! Novices beware.” 

“I don’t know, that sounds kind of dangerous,” Spencer said. 

Brendon could be really persuasive, though, and somehow they found themselves at the training facility. Jon had climbed there plenty of times and promised to meet them at the top of the cliffs when they arrived. Tom was waiting for him and they took the opportunity to take some pictures while Brendon, Spencer and Ryan got their equipment and hired belayers. 

He’d been away so long, he’d almost forgot how beautiful his home world was. Tom sent him pictures with every wave, and he had plenty he’d taken himself before leaving. It was different, though, seeing it on a screen and seeing it in person. 

Plus, it was great blackmail material getting pictures of Ryan trying to climb the wall. Brendon was actually pretty good for someone who’d never done any climbing before, but then Jon figured Brendon could probably do just about anything he wanted to, just because he wanted to. Spencer got by on muscle and sheer determination. Ryan might have had some upper body strength, but proportional to his body, being all long and scrawny, it didn’t really work too well for him. He finally struggled over the top twenty minutes after Spencer and Brendon, panting, forearms shaking visibly and glaring daggers at Brendon. 

Jon dug his thumbs in at Ryan’s wrists and rubbed up to his elbows until Ryan relaxed and started breathing regularly again. Spencer, despite his original protestations had actually enjoyed it. He and Brendon kept babbling about how invigorating it had been, and they both wanted to come back. Ryan eyed them balefully, but Jon kissed him and promised they could stay on the boat all day and have drinks on the deck. 

Tom wasn’t too fazed by Jon’s monogamy—even though it wasn’t necessarily the traditional sort. Jon’s parents, on the other hand…

“Brendon,” Jon’s mother said, plastering herself to his side almost as soon as they’d entered the front door. “You know, if you request the _jamaharon_ , all that I have is yours.” 

“Um. Thanks,” Brendon said, extricating himself. He grabbed Jon’s hand like it was his lifeline. “But I’m good.” 

She arched a brow at him. “If you change your mind,” she purred, “just place the _horga’hn_ by my door.” 

“Uh huh,” Brendon said, voice going amusingly high-pitched. They escaped to Jon’s old bedroom before dinner, Spencer and Ryan laughing hysterically at Brendon’s plight. “What was she talking about?” Brendon hissed. 

“Thought you aced your alien sexuality course,” Jon challenged playfully. 

“I didn’t drop out when I took it,” Brendon corrected. 

“This is my _horga’hn_ ,” Jon said. He went to his shelf, taking down the small statue and passing it to Brendon. “It indicates one’s desire to engage in _jamaharon_. I left it here because I never used it, and I never had any plan to use it.” 

“I know that much,” Brendon said, passing the statue onto Spencer. “What no one at the Academy could tell us was just _what_ took place during the _jamaharon_.” He hooked his ankle around Jon’s ankle and looked at him from under his lashes. 

“Why don’t you want to engage in this _jamaharon_?” Ryan asked. He was biting his lip against a frown. Jon laid his hand at the back of his neck and placed a little soothing kiss at the spot Ryan was worrying. 

“Don’t you think our sexual practices are exciting enough as is?” Jon teased. He drove his point home, pulling Ryan into his lap and giving him another, deeper kiss. Their hips fit together just right when Ryan spread his legs wider and shifted. 

Anyone else might have been embarrassed by the loud, obvious sex sounds they made in their parents’ home, but Jon was Risian. His parents had been disappointed when he hadn’t started engaging in the _jamaharon_ when he turned fifteen. 

It didn’t stop his mother from trying to talk Spencer into bed over dinner, or keep Bill from caressing Ryan’s hand every time Ryan asked for something to be passed, or Mike from asking Brendon how he felt about orgies that included relatives. 

“Your family is crazy,” Ryan said, when they’d got back to their villa, but he said it in a vaguely amused, bewildered sort of way. 

“They’re okay in small doses,” Jon allowed. 

That evening they watched the moons rise over the water. The breeze coming off the ocean was just right, as always. The scientist in Brendon had been enthralled by Risa’s planetary controls even before they’d arrived, and when they’d got there he’d asked Risa control dozens of questions about how the weather controls worked. Now he’d finally given in and just started enjoying the warm days and mild nights. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was, just a little, when they finally began to trickle off to get ready for bed and Jon found the _horga’hn_ sitting in front of the bedroom door. He couldn’t guess which of them had put it there, when he opened the door and stepped inside. They were all smiling at him, different, but all mischievous, Ryan in a silky, sheer robe, eyes smoky, lips glossy; Spencer in the tiny, lacy underwear that made Jon go crazy; Brendon laid out naked over the sheets giving him bedroom eyes. Maybe it had been a joint decision. 

“I’ve never done this, you know,” Jon told them. “I’ve trained, but…”

Spencer reached for him and laced their fingers together. “Ryan was reading about it. There isn’t a lot of information, but we read that there are the casual rites and the sacred rites, and that a Risian isn’t committed to a relationship until he has completed the sacred _jamaharon_ rites.” 

“I don’t believe that. Do you think I’m not committed to you guys?” Jon felt his ears burning. He didn’t get angry often; he hated the way it felt. 

“No,” Ryan assured him quickly, taking his other hand. “No, Jon. But the thing I was reading, it said that the sacred _jamaharon_ is the closest you can be with another person.” 

“It’s really intense,” Jon protested. “Sometimes Risians can’t take it. It’s even stronger for aliens.” 

“We want it, Jon,” Brendon said. His voice was low and urgent and Jon felt it in his spine. Spencer and Ryan nodded earnestly. 

He didn’t really have to think about it. He’d wanted it for almost as long as he’d known them. But the sacred rites had scared off lots of aliens who’d been otherwise devoted to Risian lovers. The intimacy was too much, some said. But he wanted that with them, and he had to trust that they wanted it, too. 

The oils, perfumes and wine were kept in a chest in every villa at Suraya Bay, though rarely used in the sacred rites. Guests were more interested in the casual pleasure of the _jamaharon_. He poured them each a glass of wine and filled the brass basins with water, mixing them with the oil of the braisa blossom, delicate scent wafting into the air. 

“What do we do?” Brendon asked. He had set up on the bed and was watching Jon attentively as he brought the basins to the stand at the foot of the bed. 

“There aren’t any real rules,” Jon said. “Drink your wine.” Brendon took big gulps, but Ryan and Spencer sipped theirs hesitantly. “Sit down on the bed.” They did, making a circle with Jon. He took a sponge from one of the basins, squeezed it of the excess water. Spencer sighed into the touch when Jon pushed back his hair and ran the sponge down the back of his neck, water trickling down his spine. 

Ryan took another of the sponges, starting on Brendon. Brendon started out a little restlessly, but when Spencer and Jon turned their attention on him, too, he settled down. The scent of the braisa clung gently to the skin, and when Jon began to rub Ryan’s sore arms with the inoua oil, the two scents combined gave the sensation of being intoxicated. 

Jon began talking, first, hoping they’d understand and take his lead. Telling Spencer how much his hips drove him crazy, and how he loved the silky texture of his hair and wished it was longer. Telling Ryan how he was transfixed by his fingers when he typed or played an instrument, or when he was touching one of them. Telling Brendon how amazing it was, the way he could do anything, and how he got this look of fierce concentration in his eyes when he set his mind to something and how sexy it was when he bit his lip. 

Brendon, of course, loved this game, going on at length about every little thing he loved about each of them. Spencer gave them up easily, sweetly, matter-of-factly, but Ryan was hesitant and shy about it. 

Then Jon took them through the breathing exercises. He hadn’t thought Brendon would have the patience for it. Honestly, whenever he’d let himself think about it, it got this far then Brendon got jittery and that was it. But Brendon had that look of concentration; the one Jon had said he’d loved so well. They sat together, knees touching in the circle, hands touching those who weren’t. He felt the tension go out of them, the last strains of worry and expectation and everything else so that they were all relaxed. 

Jon took Spencer’s hand, pressing a kiss against his fingers, and then dragging it to his stomach. Spencer flexed his fingers against the skin but didn’t resist, didn’t push. He let Jon guide him. The touch wasn’t really different from how it usually was. None of them were shy about touching each other, and Jon especially knew how to ask for what he wanted. 

But with all the urgency gone, it was easy to just explore, take their time. They pinned Ryan to the bed with kisses all up and down his torso. Spencer liked playing with his nipples because he knew Ryan liked it, but it was just a means to an end. Now he licked and sucked and bit like he had all the time in the world and like _he_ wanted it as much as Ryan. Brendon toyed with his other nipple between his fingers, thumbing the nub in gentle circles, pinching, flicking, until Ryan had forgotten the breathing, but that didn’t matter anymore. 

They turned on Jon and he let them move to straddle him. Spencer placed soft, sucking kisses and sharp bites up his neck, nibbling at his ears. Brendon went down on him, slow, languid swipes of his tongue, ignoring the urgent thrust of Jon’s hips looking for more. 

He made them wait, made them each have their turn at being the centre of attention, and then made them do it all over again until there some whimpers of protest and maybe some begging, but it was different than usual. Closer. Raw. 

It wasn’t really planned, when it happened, but Brendon was spread out beneath their touch, open from Jon’s tongue and Ryan’s fingers and slick with the inoua oil and Jon just slipped in, just like that, and Brendon gasped and arched his back, dug his fingers in, slippery on Jon’s arms. They stared at each other for a long time, Jon deep and still, Brendon cradling him with his thighs. He turned his head when he heard Ryan gasp. Spencer pushed into him from behind, arm around Ryan’s stomach to hold them together. He locked his eyes with Spencer’s over Ryan’s shoulder and they began to move in sync, slow, dragging thrusts. Brendon and Ryan’s breathing was in unison, trembling. 

The _jamaharon_ was meant to be between two people. It shouldn’t have worked between four. But Jon felt it building, anyway, between him and Spencer and between Brendon and Ryan. He could feel Spencer even though they weren’t touching, and knew Spencer could feel him, too, and Brendon. Just as he could feel Ryan. 

When he felt them getting close, he made them stop, practice their breathing again. Brendon whined high in his throat and Jon soothed him with kisses all over his face and shoulders. Ryan petted Brendon’s hair, even though he was making soft, desperate sounds of his own, helped by Spencer’s mouth on his neck. 

Brendon rolled them over, straddling Jon, rocking against him, eyes open and fixed. It was still there, the connection he had with Ryan and Jon’s with Spencer’s. It shouldn’t have worked. But it did. He reached out blindly and caught Ryan’s hand, felt Ryan move until his hip was pressed against Jon’s and Spencer was entering him again, facing him this time. 

It lasted longer this time, until they were all so close again, straining for release, and Jon didn’t have to tell them to calm down. All as one they were breathing deeply, stilling, stroking gentle hands over hair and skin and murmuring reassurance. 

Spencer caught Brendon around the neck and pulled him into a kiss. Their hands roamed to each other’s hips, pulling, pressing, trying to get nearer and Brendon finally climbed off of Jon and Spencer pulled out of Ryan. They rolled together, deep kisses and slow rubbing hips while Ryan squeezed Jon’s hand in his and they watched. Then somehow Jon found himself being straddled by Spencer and Brendon settled between Ryan’s thighs. 

Jon didn’t know how long it lasted. He’d had training in breathing exercises and flexibility so he could maintain pleasure without orgasm for hours and so that he could assume any position his partner requested. But the only practical experience he’d had with the breathing had been when he’d been using his own hand, and it was easier to hold off when he wasn’t feeling his own pleasure as well as that of three other people, writhing against him. 

He didn’t know how many times they were able to calm themselves. How many times they caught up the pleasure, held it back, biting lips, whispering pleas and encouragement. But it still wasn’t the urgent, desperate end they usually felt. Brendon couldn’t stop his thrusts and Spencer kept circling his hips against Jon’s, but slow, steady, keeping the pace even. And that was how the _jamaharon_ finished, winding them together, building the pleasure to the point where it just sort of spilled over in all of them at the same time, and none of them knew quite what was their pleasure and what was someone else’s. He heard someone practically wailing, felt Ryan arch almost entirely off the bed, heedless of Brendon’s weight, saw Spencer go so tight he looked like he would snap, and then it was all _whitehotohgod_. 

Spencer slumped against him, breath heavy. “God,” Brendon sighed. Jon turned his face, pressing it into Brendon’s shoulder. He smelled like the inoua and the braisa and all of their sweat. “That was…” 

Ryan groaned in agreement. Spencer was shaking. Jon flailed around a bit, finally finding some loose sheets and pulling them up over Spencer’s shoulders. “I’m not cold,” Spencer whispered, voice as shaky as his body. “I. You.” He made a sound that was a cross between laughter and moaning, vulnerable. “Fuck.” 

Brendon pulled away from them long enough to grab one of the sponges, cleaning them up and then tumbling back between Jon and Ryan. They fell asleep cuddled together, content and boneless. Spencer kept making those same noises like he couldn’t stop, and Brendon kept trembling as if with unused energy even after he’d fallen asleep, and they didn’t dream, really, but they could sense one another for hours after. Jon smiled, and figured he could wait to tell them that with enough practice the _jamaharon_ could last for hours on end, sometimes over a day, and the longer they made love, the longer the connection between them would last. He figured they still needed a while to recover from this round. 

They spent the rest of the holiday in their villa and on their boat. With Spencer and Brendon’s schedules, it was difficult sometimes to spend time together, all four of them, for longer than a few hours at a time. Ryan liked to read aloud on the deck of the ship, all of them cuddled on the hammock, swaying peacefully. 

Even though they hadn’t told any of their friends they were going to Risa, Pete found out, and on the last night there the entire fleet crashed the _Lohlunat_ festival on the shores of Suraya Bay. Jon introduced Tom to Sisky and the Butcher, who took to him pretty well, and immediately made plans to kidnap him, dragging him off to meet William. Jon wasn’t entirely sure that was the greatest idea ever, but he was happy about the prospect of seeing Tom more often. He was only slightly terrified when he saw William and Gabe present him with a _horga’hn_ , and Tom took it. 

“Our friends are so fucked up,” Spencer mused wisely. 

“Word,” Brendon said solemnly. 

“Like we’re the epitome of normalcy,” Ryan said, and rolled his eyes. 

“I love you guys,” Jon said. 

Ω

Captain Brendon Urie of the Federation Starship _Camisado_ often got questions about the name of his ship. They’d ask what it meant and he’d explain that it meant surprise attack by night. Then they’d assume it was a battleship or an assassin ship or something and Brendon would roll his eyes and laugh and wave a dismissive hand and say, “pshaw, no. We’re a science vessel.” 

There were some raised eyebrows at Starfleet Headquarters about just how the _Camisado_ managed to bring back information from the far edges of the galaxy—places that had never been explored, places that would take, at maximum warp, hundreds of years to reach. 

“You know,” Admiral Jules had said, “Exceeding maximum warp is against Starfleet regulation.” 

Brendon didn’t like to explain about Pete so he just nodded very seriously and schooled his features into what he hoped was an innocent expression and said, “We never exceed warp three, Sir.” It helped that Pete spent a lot of time masquerading as a Starfleet officer of various ranks at various posts and managed to change records here and there, and since the findings of the _Camisado_ were so important, HQ just looked the other way. 

As far as postings for science officers, the _Camisado_ was the cream of the crop, and all the best students at the Academy as well as seasoned science officers with other postings all vied for any open spots on the ship. Mostly it had to do with the fact that the _Camisado_ was on the cutting edge of the science field and all that. But also, everyone knew that Captain Urie was really great to serve under and that the club run by one of his Bajoran husbands was famous for the wild parties. Other less substantiated rumours dealt with a Gamma Quadrant fleet of strange and adventurous aliens who always knew how to have fun. The crew of the _Camisado_ was tight-lipped about these things. There was a real sense of camaraderie about them. 

Captain Urie was pretty devoted to his crew and his mission of scientific exploration, but he was even more devoted to his family. Every day when his shifted ended, he left the bridge and made his way to the nursery on deck seven. 

Jon looked up when the doors slid open. He was surrounded by the crew’s children, just at the end of story time. “Hello Captain Brendon,” the children chorused. Some Starfleet Captains didn’t like having children on the ship, but Brendon thought that was just ridiculous. He _loved_ children. One in particular. 

“Hey kids. Good story?” Brendon asked. He was met with a flurry of answers, all eager to be acknowledged. 

“Come on, children.” Jon’s replacement, Drew, ushered them out of Brendon’s way. “We shouldn’t keep the Captain.” 

Jon was left with one child, head pillowed in his lap, breathing heavily with sleep. He looked at her pointedly and Brendon went down on one knee to scoop her up without waking her, adjusting her over his shoulder. She snuffled something in her sleep and rubbed her face in his throat. Brendon kissed her ash coloured curls. 

“Help me go wake our boys?” he asked and held out his free hand to pull Jon to his feet. 

“Any exciting discoveries today?” Jon asked as they walked down the corridor. Kithna was starting to stir. Jon ran a hand through her hair. “She’s been napping for two hours,” he said ruefully. “She’s never going to go to sleep tonight.” 

“Patrick waved to say that Pete got distracted by something in the Andromeda galaxy. He’ll probably be stopping by when he sobers up.” 

“So, like, another decade or two?” Jon muttered. They shared a smile, and when the turbolift doors closed, Brendon leaned in for a kiss. Kithna raised her head, bumping Brendon’s chin hard enough to make him bite Jon’s tongue. 

“Sorry,” Brendon cringed. Jon’s fingers came away from his mouth a little bloody. 

“Daddy,” Kithna said sleepily. 

“Kiddo,” Brendon answered. 

“Can we play games? I want to play the apple game. Dad said we could.” 

Jon rolled his eyes. “I said if you did your numbers and your alphabet and actually ate more than two bites of dinner that we could play the apple game.” 

Kithna gave Brendon her best puppy dog eyes, but that mostly only worked on Ryan, who didn’t seem to know what to do when confronted with them and just collapsed under the pressure. “You heard what he said,” Brendon told her sternly. She didn’t stop pouting but her eyes dropped. 

By the time they reached their quarters Kithna was fully awake. She squirmed to be let down, running through the living room and into their bedroom. Two groans could be heard from within, no doubt the result of tiny knees and elbows in groins and stomachs and throats. Jon tugged Brendon close by his collar, easing off his jacket as they kissed. It was his favourite part of coming home, shedding his uniform, shedding Captain Urie and just being Brendon and Daddy. 

“I hate you,” Ryan told him blearily, when he came into the bedroom to change. Kithna had followed Spencer off to the ‘fresher. 

Years ago, Jon had, with the help of Nate and Tom, perfected the holographic windows for their bedroom and Kithna’s. Currently it was set to the view of their cabin on Bajor, low-slung hills and dipping valleys, all run through by the sparkling blue ribbon of the Savina River. The sun was low in the sky, but still casting orange gold light over the room, heating the bed where it fell in streams. The trees ruffled with breeze, and Pete had been the one to help create that effect, so that the scents and sounds and sensations of nature managed to pervade the window. 

Brendon hummed in amusement and Ryan hid his head under his pillow, muttering plans of death. By the time he’d discarded his uniform, Spencer was coming, yawning, out of the ‘fresher, Kithna trailing behind him babbling about unicorns and swords and Mikeyway. He caught Spencer’s eye, looked at Ryan’s prone form, and shot a significant look back at Spencer. Spencer grinned wickedly and nodded his agreement. Brendon might never be as good at the silent communication thing as Ryan and Spencer were, but he was getting better. 

“Come on, Kith, let’s go make Dad make us some pancakes,” Spencer said, hand between her shoulders. 

Kithna’s eyes lit up. “With chocolate and tulaberries? And whipped cream?” 

Spencer sighed wearily. “We’ll see.” 

“I think our friends are a bad influence on her,” Brendon said, wonderingly. 

“I think our friends are a bad influence on us,” Ryan said. Brendon waited until the door was closed behind their daughter to lay himself out on top of Ryan and tug the pillow off his face. 

“What’re you doing?” Ryan mumbled. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” Brendon laughed. He put a knee between Ryan’s thighs, nudging, and Ryan spread his legs. He was always easy when he was half-asleep. Not that he was ever particularly difficult. At least, not in bed. 

Ryan rolled his hips lazily, tipped back his head to give Brendon better access. “Mmm, Kithna.” 

“Spence’ll keep her busy.” He fumbled the sheet out of the way and Ryan helped him get out of his boxers, Ryan wiggling out of his sleep pants, and when they lay back together, their cocks lined up just right. 

Brendon was worn out from work, but Ryan didn’t expect anything fancy. He pushed himself up a little on his elbows, rocking, and kissed up Ryan’s neck, licked his mouth open. He got them off fast, grinding down until Ryan was gasping desperately, fingernails leaving crescent moons in Brendon’s arms. He came, biting Brendon’s ear and when Brendon felt the hotwet, his hips thrust jerkily twice more and moaned Ryan’s name as he followed him. 

“Love ya,” Brendon said, and kissed him under the jaw. Even after cleaning off and changing into his casual clothes, Ryan was still idling about in bed, though he looked more awake and definitely smugger, like the cat that’d caught the canary. 

Ryan finally joined them twenty minutes later, hair damp from the shower, dressed in skin tight jeans and a clingy, slinky looking top (he’d taken to dressing in Brendon’s clothing when he’d realised how comfortable they were, and then Brendon had started making Ryan his own that actually fit). He cosied up next to Jon on the sofa, stealing a bite of pancake. Kithna scrambled out of Spencer’s lap to get to Ryan’s. Ryan lifted her up to avoid having her climb. Her limbs were dangerous weapons. 

At five, Kithna was taller than average, chin already past Brendon’s belly button, and she was all skin and bones. Her height and the colour of her hair she’d got from Spencer, her build from Ryan. She had their nose, too, only even softer ridges than Spencer’s and she had Jon’s eyes, and small silver-gold disk on her brow. Brendon’s looks were less apparent in her, but she had his mouth and resembled him the most in personality. 

“I love you, Daddy,” she said, when she’d situated herself in Ryan’s lap and was playing with his hair.

“I love you, too, baby.” Ryan got that wobbly-eyed look he always got when Kithna was sweet, but Brendon knew better.

Sure enough. “Dad said we could play the apple game,” she told Ryan plaintively. 

“Well,” Ryan said, and she gave him her big eyes and Ryan’s resolve just _wasn’t._ “Well, of course we can, sweetie. Why don’t you go set it up?” 

“Sucker,” Spencer said out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Fuck off,” Ryan muttered back, when little ears were out of hearing range. 

After five rounds of the apple game, Brendon ended their misery by putting on cartoons, and just before it was bedtime for Kithna, the door chimed. Brendon had an open door policy with his crew, but they usually didn’t come to his private quarters. They’d call him on the comm. if they needed him when he was off-duty. 

Frank was bouncing on his feet when they answered the door. He had his and Gee’s daughter, Andromanche on his hip and Gerard had Alicia and Mikey’s children, Arthur and Elena by the hand. 

“Hey, guys,” Brendon said. “Didn’t know you were in the area.” 

“Weren’t. Impromptu party at the club. Pete was complaining about how long it had been since he’d seen you,” Frank explained. 

“It’s been, like, three days,” Ryan protested. 

Gerard gave him a look. “I’m sorry, were you expecting sanity or logic? Because you might be thinking of the wrong Pete.” 

“Fair enough,” Spencer said. 

“Anyway, we’re on babysitting duty,” Gerard said. 

Kithna lit up, scrambling off the floor and practically throwing herself at Gerard. He grunted at the impact, letting go of his niece and nephew to hug Kithna. Brendon repressed the urge to sigh. There would be no getting Kithna to bed on time now, but he supposed that was Frank and Gerard’s problem. He would have felt guilty, except Frank and Gee loved being on babysitting duty. 

Everyone joked about it, how strange it was that they only had one child of their own when they fawned over everyone else’s. They’d begun laying down bets on how long it would be until they adopted their next—Gerard refused to have children of their own when there were so many orphans who needed homes. 

Luckily Arthur, Elena and Andromanche were equally obsessed by games as Kithna, and lucky that Frank was Wadi, and more than happy to indulge them. Sometimes Brendon wished he wouldn’t, when he taught Kithna a new game and it was all she wanted to do for the next month. 

_Aubergine Dreams_ was already swinging by the time they arrived. Ryan employed two bartenders, three cooks and six servers, supplemented by Spencer and himself, and occasionally Jon. That was usually enough for the crew and families on the ship, but with all of the Decaydance fleet it got a little crowded and a lot noisy and very busy. Not that anyone particularly minded. 

“Brendon!” Pete cornered him almost as soon as he entered. “Brendon, I found the coolest lizard-y thingie in a cave on this planet in the Daralee system in the Andromeda universe.” 

“Sounds awesome, Pete,” Brendon said, indulgent. Actually, it did, but he found encouraging Pete just made it worse. 

“Pete, stage, five minutes,” Patrick shouted, over the din. It was Brendon’s favourite part of the fleet visiting, when they all started playing. He found his husbands in a dark corner by the bar. There was a drink waiting and a spot on Spencer’s lap. Usually Brendon would be out on the dance floor, dancing ‘til he was sweaty and sore, but it had been a long week and he was worn out and content to rest his head against Spencer’s chest and just watch their friends. 

Gabe and Ryland did shots until they passed out and Sisky and the Butcher made a scene by practically fucking against the bar. William, who already had the hearts of the entire female population of the ship, and half the male population, too, almost caused a riot when he stripped off his shirt in the middle of singing, put his hands in his belt loops and tugged low, exposing cut hips and too much skin. 

“Good to know some things never change,” Ryan said fondly, as Jon and Pete began a ridiculous rap. Pete had conjured them matching jackets and sunglasses. Brendon didn’t even know when Jon and Pete had managed to choreograph the whole thing, but he was laughing too hard to question it. 

Kithna was actually asleep when they got back. She and the other children were all tucked into her bed and Frank and Gerard were passed out on the sofa. Pete planned on sticking around a few days anyway, before taking them to the Daralee system, so they left them to sleep, slipping silently into their own room. 

When Brendon had been assigned his own ship, his first request had been about his quarters. On DS9 they’d managed to get a fairly nice sized bed in Ryan’s quarters, but on Brendon’s subsequent postings to ships, the quarters weren’t very flexible. They’d ended up, more often than not, with suites, and squeezed into smaller beds. The bed in their quarters on the _Camisado_ was plenty big enough to fit the four of them comfortably, whether they were sleeping or engaging in other, messier activities. There was even enough room for when Kithna snuck in during the middle of the night. 

Jon dragged Brendon into the shower, helping him clean. He let his eyes drift shut and trusted himself in Jon’s hands. He was too tired to help return the favour, but not too tired to appreciate soapy hands slipping between his legs, slicking over his balls, up the crack of his ass. He got hard pretty quickly when one of Jon’s fingers slid inside him and twisted until he found the prostate. 

He rinsed them both and got them dried off and bent Brendon over the sink. Brendon fumbled in the drawers until he found the lube, rubbed it down Jon’s cock. His back arched as Jon split him open with one deep, quick thrust. He met Jon’s eyes in the mirror, moaned when Jon reached around his waist and grabbed Brendon’s erection. He jerked his wrist rough and tight, just how Brendon liked it. Just how Jon knew it would get him off fast. 

Spencer and Ryan were already in bed when they got out of the ‘fresher. The windows were letting in cool, green moonlight and the sound of crickets and soft falling rain. The room had a chilly, damp feel about it. Brendon had never been a fan of the environmental controls onboard starships and stations; the work Pete and Jon had done made him feel like he was back home in San Francisco on a late summer evening. 

Brendon curled up with Spencer’s head to his chest and Ryan read to them until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any more. Spence and Ryan were usually up later than him and Jon, but often they lay in bed with them til they’d gone to sleep. He felt himself drifting off to the soft, lyrical sound of Ryan’s voice even once the words lost their meaning. Spencer hugged him tight, took the chill from the air. 

He could feel the light of the stars against his eyelids, but it was different here. It was the view of the night from below, distant and remote. That feeling of empty and calm he’d always associated with it was gone. He was full. So full, with Ryan and Spencer and Jon, and with Kithna, and there were so many things that weighed him down, but in this bed, he was weightless. This wasn’t peace. This was crazy and hard and fun and wonderful and ecstatic. This wasn’t peace at all. This was better. 


End file.
